


Right Here Waiting

by Quarra, xantissa



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa), Vassalord
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Play, Come play, Experimentation, Feeding, Hair Pulling, M/M, Marking, Master/Servant dynamics, Medical Torture, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Shower Sex, Sloppy Seconds, Some angst, Some feels, Torture, Vampires, because Vampires, but everyone is all in for the sexy times, embedded art, fang porn, hair porn, lots of smut, some dub con touching, vampire porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-01 00:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12145041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarra/pseuds/Quarra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: The Vatican got Chris in trouble. They sent him out on what should have been a routine vampire hunt, but ended up being something else all together. When Rayflo tracks down his childe, he finds Chris in the hands of a human too powerful to believe. He’ll need to bargain Chris’s way to freedom. And if he reminds the man of another vampire? Well, as long as everybody gets out alive it’s all good, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, thanks to wonderful Glow Cloud by the name of [NurseDarry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry) for beta.

 

                                                             

                                                                 

Rayflo could have entered the house in his bat forms, getting in wasn’t a problem. Getting out alive was a completely different matter. Ever since he’d lost track of Chris almost three weeks ago, he knew something bad had happened. For one, his wayward childe never went longer than two weeks without coming back for his blood. Even that had only happened a handful of times. A week was normal, ten days might pass from time to time if there was travel involved. three weeks? Never. Three weeks would not only make Chris all but insane from hunger, it would _kill_ him.

He knew Chris wasn’t dead, that Rayflo was sure of, but he could barely feel him, and that terrified Rayflo to no end. In almost eighty years, this had never occurred. Chris was never so hurt that Rayflo couldn’t sense him if he’d wanted to.

Chris was a bit too good at hiding the information he’d got from the Vatican for his hunts, so it took a lot longer than Rayflo was comfortable with to get to know just who it was his childe hunting. First appearances lent towards a more sophisticated vampire than usual: a man going by Frank E. Stein, wealthy businessman from Europe, whose identity did not hold up so well when one dug deep enough. It was false, just like the identity underneath. Rich, mysterious, sophisticated and handsome, he did match the way some older vampires tended to present themselves to the world. The string of bloodless corpses found on local landfill sites coalesced into a nice image of a vampire making this city its hunting ground.

The research had looked so good. There were pictures of the blond vampire meeting the people that were later found dead, there were hotel receipts and witness testimonies of how Mr. Stein had been seen with this or that person. It looked really good.

It was complete and _utter_ bulshit.

The moment Rayflo saw the man in question he knew that he was human, not a vampire. And that he possessed disturbing power. It was hidden, kept under tight control - Rayflo could tell. If it hadn’t been for his own experience, for him being a creature that had been created from direct contract with a demon, he probably would have missed the scent of darkness following the man like a devoted lover.

For all that Chris called him an idiot, a reckless old man, Rayflo was very well aware of his limits. Chris just didn’t know his master's true power; instead of confronting Stein, even though he could smell his childe’s scent on him from a mile away, he backed away. Armed with pictures and the unreliable information, Rayflo reached out to his contacts. Most of them told him nothing. In desperation he went to Barry. The Incubus took his sweet time, making Rayflo pay and pay for the information, bleeding him and ripping his body slowly apart until even that demon was satisfied with how much he’d hurt Rayflo. The information he got for his blood and his pain was shocking to say the least.

The man was not Frank Stein. His name was _Frankenstein_. A man older than the book though, older than the _church_ that hated him so much, even. Incredibly powerful, he was known for his love of science and research into the supernatural word. He was also known for always being the last one standing. Among those old enough to know what he was, just who he was, there was a unanimous opinion that you _did not_ mess with Frankenstein. As much as the man would not kill innocents, he could and would murder his enemies with a lot of pleasure.

Rayflo had been informed, in no uncertain terms, that he would be snuffed out of existence if he went against that monster. He couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t the Vatican’s plan all along. Procure false data that would convince Chris that Frankenstein was just a particularly successful vampire. If they were lucky, Chris would kill the man. If Chris died in the attempt? Well, everybody who knew anything about Rayflo’s relationship with his childe knew he would fight like mad for Chris. Either way, the Vatican would end up happy. They either got rid of a monster that most likely made them shit their pants in fear, or they’d get rid of Chris and Rayflo in one go. As good a vampire hunter as Chris was, he was still also a vampire. The cyborg parts of him allowed him certain freedoms other vampires were not, but he was still a disgrace to the church, living proof that even their most devoted warriors could fall into darkness.

It was why he did not try for a stealthy approach or a forced confrontation. If he could recognise the power clinging so strongly to the man, it stood to reason that Frankenstein could recognise him just as well. He burst into his bats, shattering his form into thousands of tiny creatures as he passed the guards at the gates. He saw the illuminated pool and the tasteful furniture set out on the patio, a carafe of something alcoholic and two glasses set on a silver tray and reformed his body next to the table. He summoned the clothes he liked the most, the slim-fit slacks and the half-open, high collared shirt. Around his neck he wore the twined cord that dangled down his naked chest. Using his sexuality as a weapon was as natural to him as the way Frankenstein used his own looks and expensive clothes to intimidate people.

Rayflo pulled out the pack of cigarettes he always managed to keep on him, so addicted to the things he’d even learned to summon them with his clothes. He put one in his mouth and lit it.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The scent of blood and power, of corruption, eased around him just moments before the owner of the house stepped out from the shadowed building.

“I did not expect a visitor at this time of night.” The man spoke without a trace of accent, his tone even and polite. Rayflo shifted his eyes to look at him and had to admire the sheer skill the man had in making himself look so very much in control. He was dressed impeccably in a snow white shirt and a slim-cut suit which only served to highlight his lithe figure and obscure the power of his frame. His blond, slightly curly hair fell in soft, attractive waves over his face, obscuring one eye and went on to drape lower, over his shoulders and down his back. The night breeze was hijacking soft strands of golden hair and ruffling them, showcasing their length. He wore thin wire-rimmed glasses and his single visible eye was stunningly blue. All in all he looked like class and refinement, while Rayflo looked anything but with half of his chest on display, his rings and other jewelry. Frankenstein certainly looked at Rayflo, but he couldn’t tell what the man thought. His face was an inscrutably polite mask.

“I’m sorry for barging in this way,” Rayflo demurred, willing to play the game of manners if it would bring him closer to his goal.

The wind shifted, bringing in the scent of Chris's blood and his _pain_. Rayflo inhaled the smoke from his cigarette sharply, willing to kill his sense of smell, making sure he could stay in control, tamping down on his panic.

“I must admit I am curious about the purpose of this visit.” Frankenstein moved closer, his polished shoes catching the light briefly. He was perfect, down to the smallest detail, his handsome face not betraying anything.

“I was hoping for a… bargain, of sorts.” Rayflo admitted, slowly exhaling smoke.

“Oh?” The man reached the table and lifted the crystal carafe. “Drink?” he offered politely and Rayflo nodded.

“Please,”

Frankenstein poured both of them a drink and then pushed a glass towards Rayflo. He took his own in slender, pale fingers and tilted it slightly, letting the crystal catch the light emanating from the pool.

“Bargain?” the blond prodded, lifting the glass to his lips but not drinking. His hair was truly stunning, Rayflo had to admit. Even now it looked so soft and inviting, the sheer challenge of it forcing Rayflo to respect him.

“You have something of mine,” Rayflo said quietly. “I would like to have it back.” He drank the alcohol, sherry smooth and warm on his tongue.

The blue eyes of his companion regarded him for a moment before he too took a sip of his drink.

“Ah,” there was a note of… interest, intrigue almost, in that one small sound. “He’s your creation.”

Rayflo wondered just how much the man knew about vampires that he caught on so quickly.

“Yes,”

Frankenstein sat down on one of the lounge chairs, his posture perfect, and motioned Rayflo to the other chair. In contrast, Rayflo slouched down until he was all but sprawled on the chair, his body arranged as carelessly as possible.

“For one of your kind to come and negotiate instead of a full frontal assault is rather an odd occurence.” His host took another sip of his drink and Rayflo wondered just how many vampires Frankenstein must have killed to be so utterly unaffected by Rayflo’s presence. Rayflo chuckled.

“My research made it clear that conflict with you was not a thing that many could survive,” he sipped his own drink, watching how his dangerous host dipped his head, acknowledging the compliment. “And my sources tell me you are not one for killing the innocent.”

The last comment hit close enough to home that Rayflo noticed the polite mask falter, a sharp angry gleam appearing in the man’s blue eyes. Briefly, a sense of overwhelming killing intent, a monstrous rage and insanity filled the air between them, before Frankenstein got control of himself again and hid his insanity under a mask of politeness.

“Innocent you say?” His host returned his glass to the table, “he invaded my home and attacked me with the intent to kill me.” The blue eyes bored into Rayflo’s gaze, narrowed and very cold. “I think he lost that status the moment he chose to confront me.”

“He was misled.” Rayflo stretched in the chair, sinking even lower, spreading his legs and letting his curly hair fall into his eyes. His host looked distastefully at the way Rayfo was lounging in his chair and Rayflo smirked. It didn’t matter what kind of attention he got, it just mattered that he’d caught the man’s attention at all. “The Vatican really and truly hates you.” He took a pull of his cigarette. “And, possibly, me too,” he admitted a little ruefully, exhaling the smoke slowly.

Frankenstein’s pale eyebrows rose at the admission.

“Vatican?”

“He works as a vampire hunter for them. It’s where he got all the nicely prepared information that depicted you as a vampire preying on people here,”

This time Frankenstein blinked, visibly taken aback.

“Vampire?” he said. “Me?” there was a thread of disbelief in his voice, and Rayflo wondered what it was about his sentence that the man found so unbelievable.

“The information looked good. I believed it too until I got a noseful of your scent and the dark power you reek of.”

His host titled his head inquisitively.

“You can tell?” He sounded surprised. “I’m usually very good at hiding it.”

“It’s in your blood,” Rayflo thought about the cloyingly sweet yet bitter scent, so sharp it almost hurt to be near. He couldn't remember ever being close to a human possessing such power. “It’s like a banner to me, this smell.” Perversely Rayflo wondered how it would feel to taste that blood, take in all that power and insanity. He was used to feeding on other vampires, he hadn't killed a human in almost a hundred years, not since he’d met Chris. Rarely even fed on one. Now, the hunger came with a vengeance.

Frankenstein watched him, his eyes no longer cold but interested, calculating. It felt like the man’s considerable attention was set on Rayflo, but also as if he weren’t seeing Rayflo at all.

“It’s interesting,” Frankenstein murmured, tilting back slightly in his chair. “that you could figure out so much in an arguably short time.”

Yeah, Rayflo expected Frankenstein wouldn’t be happy with that, considering how much effort he’d put into creating his public persona.

“I was motivated,” Rayflo said, watching the weakly smoldering end of his cigarette. He was almost done with it. He turned his eyes to his perfectly composed host. “You smell like his pain,” he admitted. This was a losing proposition and he knew it. Rayflo could try fighting Frankenstein, but the fact he hadn’t been feeding well for decades, and had given large amounts of his own blood to Chris on a regular basis meant he was nowhere near his full potential. There was always a small chance that his own maker could get involved in a possible conflict between him and the powerful human. But judging by how scared the supernatural community seemed to be of Frankenstein, he wouldn’t bet on that creature. It loved playing with Rayflo but it wouldn’t risk its own existence for him, of that Rayflo was sure.

“You display more concern for your creation than I would ever have expected from a vampire,” Frankenstein mused, getting up. He started heading towards the house, and Rayflo kept a careful eye on him. He was not naive to the implied offence by the movement. And now that the man’s back was to him Rayflo could see that the blond hair was easily waist long, falling in soft waves over the exquisitely well cut jacket.

“So sure of yourself, are you.” Rayflo murmured, snuffing out the butt of his cigarette between his fingers and throwing it into the small trash can set nearby. His aim was still good it seemed.

Frankenstein paused, turning his head just enough to look at Rayflo from the corner of his eye, the blue orb cold and calculating.

“On the contrary,” he said mildly. “Just the fact you were able to dig out my true name is enough for me to realise that you are much older than the vampire in my lab. The fact you were polite enough to come here to talk instead of barging in like an uncultured animal is also a point in your favor.”

“Oh?” Rayflo drawled.

“He’s a fascinating specimen to study,” Frankenstein said with a mild voice. “His cybernetic implants are horrifically extensive and fairly crude.” Rayflo felt his eyebrows go up. Chris's cybernetic parts were among the most advanced in the world, the product of the finests of Vatican’s minds. He’d heard many things said about them, that they were disturbing, vulgar, terrifying… but never crude.

The man sounded as if there were so many different, better ways of augmenting a body than the cybernetics. It was odd, because Rayflo haven't heard of any other way to achieve what Chris's did. “But he is only second generation mutant,” he continued. “Still I expected more unique abilities from him than the cybernetics. I think it would be an interesting study to figure out if he just naturally does not possess any of the special abilities of your kind, even for a second generation, or if it was the extensive modification of his body that stopped those powers from manifesting.”

Something deep in Rayflo’s chest boiled over at the mention of Chris being nothing but a specimen, an object to study, but he swallowed that anger down. He’d already got farther than he first expected.

“Wouldn’t the original be more of an interesting subject to study?” he offered with a smirk, trying to project as much sensuality and invitation as possible when he locked his eyes with Frankenstein. “A willing one?”

That did catch his host’s attention. It wasn’t anything obvious but Rayflo could almost taste the sharp attention directed at him for a moment, almost a kind of lust - heavy and intense. Frankenstein loved his research it seemed, and having a willing subject could be the thing to convince him to let Chris go. Up til now, Rayflo had nothing real to offer him, nothing that would be worth giving up on his grudge against Chris. Rayflo himself wasn’t a man that held grudges, that kind of thinking had been pounded out of him a very long time ago. Frankenstein had not suffered the same fate it seemed, hadn’t been beaten over and over again until he had to learn to let things go. Quite the opposite, Frankenstein had been the one left standing at the end of the day.

Frankenstein started moving again.

“Will you let me see him?” Rayflo blurted out. He wanted to slap his hand over mouth, take back the words, but it was too late. He’d been doing so well, he’d been making progress, but he’d been ignoring the scent of Chris's blood, his pain for too long already, and that had made Rayflo reckless, made him _desperate_. If he could just reach Chris, give him blood, he could make sure Chris could survive whatever was happened to him.

Partially secluded in the shadows of his house made Frankenstein’s expression unreadable as he looked at Rayflo over his shoulder. The moment was painfully long and neither man saying anything. Frankenstein merely looked at him with those cold calculating eyes of his.

“What are you offering in exchange for letting him go?”

“Anything you want.” Rayflo didn’t hesitate with his answer. He didn’t want to fight this guy, not with the kind of reputation Frankenstein had, but Rayflo needed to get Chris out of his grasp as quickly as possible. He needed to give Chris blood, heal him, make sure he was safe.

Whatever Frankenstein had wanted to do to him couldn’t possibly be worse than what Barry had done to Rayflo whenever he had caught up to him. Rayflo was capable of withstanding tremendous amounts of pain, and his regenerative ability meant there wouldn’t be any traces left of whatever he had gone through. Chris wouldn’t even have to know, especially as his childe tended to keep as far away from Rayflo as possible between feedings. Chris's constant resentment and fight against the pull of his vampire instincts, against Rayflo, was a bittersweet kind of pain. When asking to stay with Rayflo, when asking to be changed, Chris had promised to have no regrets. Yet life proved to be a bitch again, and even that childe resented Rayflo now.

If his words had had any effect on Frankenstein, he couldn’t now tell. Nothing in Frankenstein’s posture or his scent gave away what he might be thinking, or maybe Rayflo’s nose was just too full of Chris's pain which suffused the air around the blond.

“Very well then, I accept your offer,” Frankenstein said finally stepping completely into the darkness of his house. “Follow me.”

Rayflo didn’t need to be told twice. He rose from the chair and followed his host into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Rayflo wasn’t as surprised that the house held multiple underground levels as he was by the fact that the floors seemed to be almost strictly laboratories. There were huge units, humming with electricity, set out under the blindingly white walls, and computers with many screens in almost every room they passed. Frankenstein walked with a casual, confident gait that didn't betray any guilt or worry. He didn’t seem to think anything of the ever-intensifying scent of pain that permeated the highly purified air. Rayflo felt himself become more twitchy with every step. It was hard to keep himself from running, from finding Chris, his Cherry, and easing his pain. _Saving_ him.

When they reached the last door on this corridor, Frankenstein entered a code on a numeric keypad and stepped aside, just as the heavy metal door noiselessly slid apart.

The room wasn’t much different than all the others they’d passed, the same machinery stuffed everywhere, but it had one more feature that, when he saw it, briefly turned Rayflo’s blood to ice. 

Under the farthest wall was Chris. He was standing, or rather hanging from wrist restraints that stretched his arms out to the sides. There was an odd, purplish-black hue to the metal holding him in place. His chest was mostly naked, the clothes clearly cut off, pieces of cotton still hanging down his hips. His wrist were bleeding sluggishly under the restraints, but that wasn’t the worst thing. Through his middle there were two spikes, made of what looked like the purple-black energy that suffused the cuffs. It pierced Chris through the belly, nailing him into the wall. The spikes sparkled every so often with obviously corrosive energy. The wounds around the spikes were black, thin tendrils of infection spreading out from them. 

Chris was unconscious, his head hanging limply, pale blond hair matted with sweat and blood. His feet were secured with the same kind of metal as the cuffs, reinforced with the same sharp-smelling energy Rayflo had smelled on Frankenstein. All along Chris’s body were attached sensors and IV lines, some leading to transfusion bags hanging on a pole to the side of his childe.

Rayflo was at Chris’s side in a heartbeat, hand curling over the black spike, intending to pull it out. The energy hissed and spat at him, cutting his hand to the bone and numbing his fingers. Rayflo grit his teeth against the pain and pulled, willing himself to withstand whatever it takes to get them out, but perversely, the harder Rayflo tugged, the more the spike seemed to be stuck. What Rayflo had taken for signs of infection were actually tendrils seeping from the spike Chris's body. Even unconscious, Chris reacted to the pain, his face twisting in a grimace of agony, and Rayflo let go, feeling his own blood drip down his mangled hands. He made a sound then, a growling whine, and turned to look at Frankenstein still hovering close to the door.

“Take those out!” Rayflo yelled, gesturing sharply with his hands, splashing blood onto the pristine white floor.

Frankenstein’s face bore a strange expression, surprise or maybe pity. Rayflo had no idea, and had no inclination of spending time figuring it out now. Just as he was opening his mouth to shout again, the blond man snapped the fingers of his right hand and the spikes dissolved into streams of purple mist. It floated back to Frankenstein in dark streams, wrapping around his body briefly before disappearing, as if sucked in.

Chris's body sagged in his bonds, the wounds left by the spikes raw and open, the regeneration ability not starting. Rayflo exhaled a whine again, pressing his open palm to the holes bleeding out precious liquid.

“Wake up,” Rayflo called helplessly, pressing his hand harder against Chris's stomach. He was bleeding so badly and _not healing_.

“My blood affects regeneration ability.” Frankenstein's voice was slow and oddly quiet behind him. “In weaker cases it stops it completely.” There was a small sound of cloth against cloth, a quiet footstep. “I gave him a blood transfusion, he should be okay in time.”

“ _He’s in pain_ ,” Rayflo snarled, shifting closer to Chris, trying to shake him awake. “Wake up Chris, you have to feed.”

The blond vampire was limp and unresponsive against him, barely unlike a dead body.

“Chris,” Rayflo called trying to reach his unconscious childe, but it was to no avail; there was not even a flicker of consciousness. Rayflo wrapped his hand around a pale cheek and leaned closer, pressing his own cheek to Chris's. “Wake up,” he pleaded. “you need to feed,”

“Why?” The question was unwelcome, but the tone was almost cautious. 

“We need blood to live,” Rayflo said sharply. “but blood from bags is merely a supplement. It’s the life, the power we get from the act of feeding.” he explained, terrified that Chris was already too far gone to wake up. “He needs to feed from me so he can take on my regeneration, which he needs right now.” It was no use. Chris was not responding, wasn't reacting to Rayflo’s presence at all. 

Rayflo cut through the skin on his neck, not hard enough to break the vein, but making himself bleed enough to maybe trigger Chris's instincts.

“Here.” He more sensed than saw the movement, turning around in time to catch a syringe.

“He’s sedated,” Frankenstein said, moving far enough for Rayflo to see him from the corner of his eye. “this should wake him, but just for a little while.”

Rayflo looked at the syringe in his hand.

“It should be long enough for him to feed.” Frankenstein sounded almost kind, but Rayflo didn't pay him any more attention than necessary. He had no reason to be suspicious of Frankenstein's reasons right now. The man had had Chris in his power for weeks already, he’d already done to him whatever he’d wanted. 

Rayflo injected the contents of the syringe into the nearest vein.

It didn’t take long for Chris to stir after that. He twitched, his heartbeat getting stronger, then shifted, groggily lifting his head.

“Master?” Chris muttered, half the word swallowed by a heavy tongue, and Rayflo felt the tight band of panic around his chest ease up.

“Hi Cherry,” he greeted, pressing close enough he was taking most of Chris's weight.

“Master,” Chris repeated, turning his head almost blindly into Rayflo’s neck, where the shallow cut was still oozing.

“You have to feed,” Rayflo said gently, tangling his hand in the dirty blond locks and tugging Chris's mouth closer to his neck. “Take as much as you need,” he urged, feeling the tips of Chris’s fangs press against his skin. “Take it,” he urged.

The first push of fangs into Rayflo’s neck hurt but just briefly. Between his insanely high pain threshold and the pleasure that rushed at him with the very first moment Cherry started sucking, the pain barely registered. Rayflo tightened his hold in the blond hair, relief and pleasure flooding over him.

“That’s it,” Rayflo encouraged, almost dizzy with feeling. “You’re are doing well.”

The more he drank, the stronger Chris became. A moment after the first dazed pull, he bit down again, fangs ripping up Rayflo’s neck much more severely than usual, and drank deeper, pulling great gulps of blood from his master, opening the vein wide. It was not the usual sensual tease, the multiple bites that substituted for a sexual encounter between them most of the time. No, this was feeding - fast and brutal. Chris was growling between bites, driven purely by instinct, draining Rayflo at a rate that was dangerous even for him.

“He’ll kill you if you don’t stop him.” Frankenstein again. He was closer now, standing beside them both, his glasses reflecting the harsh laboratory light and hiding his eyes.

He was right, Rayflo knew. Maybe not necessarily about killing Rayflo; he’d been bled out plenty of times by Barry and hadn't died yet, but it could make him crash, and he needed to remain functional to fulfill his deal with his host. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to stop Chris. Rayflo could feel the burn of the wound on his neck, pleasure suffusing his body from the powerful sucking, and the way his blood was trailing down his chest where it spilled from Chris's greedy mouth. He tilted his head, pressing his cheek against the side of Chris's head, smelling the strong scent of the man so close to him, his blood and pain. Everything in him cried out to give Chris blood, to feed him, to make him stronger. To save him. His childe was so starved, so in need, and Rayflo couldn’t imagine pulling away, taking from him what Chris so desperately needed right now. Chris was safe again, and that was all that Rayflo could think about.

Well, almost safe.

The fact that he hadn’t yet finalised his deal with Frankenstein pushed Rayflo to move. He used his grip on Chris's hair to pull him away from his ravaged neck. The other vampire snarled, eyes glowing red and completely lost to his hunger as he surged forward briefly. Chris already looked better, his face no longer so deathly pale, and the wounds in his stomach starting to close.

“Shh,” Rayflo said gently, putting his other hand against Chris's cheek.

“You did well Cherry, so well,” he praised, not realizing he had again used Chris’s nickname. “You survived. I’m so proud of you.”

Chris stilled in his grasp, eyes losing their red glow and returning to his usual black. He blinked again, and focused on Rayflo’s face for the first time.

“Master?” He sounded confused, and Rayflo swallowed the disappointment of knowing that Chris hadn’t expected him to rescue him.

“You are safe,” Rayflo reassured. “I’m going to get you out of here soon.”

Chris, the stubborn, ridiculous being, noticed the presence beside them and surged in his bonds again.

“Watch out!” He slurred out a warning, eyes trying to track Frankenstein but becoming glazed again. His body started sagging. 

“Cherry?” Rayflo reached out for him again, worried that something had gone wrong, that he hadn’t taken enough blood. “Cherry!” he called again, struggling to hold the younger vampire up against the wall.

“The stimulant is wearing off.” Frankenstein intoned from his position beside them. “It will take at least eight hours more for him to sleep it off.”

There was a click, then another, and Rayflo was catching Chris's body as it sagged from its bonds. The younger vampire was slightly taller and much heavier than Rayflo, the cybernetic parts giving him not only additional power but also pure weight. Now Chris felt almost fragile as he slumped listlessly into Rayflo’s arms, head falling limply against his shoulder. Rayflo kept the other vampire pressed to his chest for long moments, just to reassure himself that Chris was alive, was here, present and in his arms. He was alive and that was all that mattered. Whatever was needed to satisfy Frankenstein, Rayflo would give gladly. Just to have this.

“You let your grudge against him go, and I will agree to anything you want,” Rayflo said, lowering his unconscious childe to the floor. He carefully laid him down, a palm on the back of Chris's head to ensure it came to rest gently on the floor. The younger vampire was still paler than usual, his breathing stuttered and shallow, but already he looked better than he had with those wretched spikes piercing him. Rayflo pushed the dirty bangs from his forehead, smoothing his palm against a pale cheek, feeling for warmth coming back. He couldn’t help but smile a little at his childe. Chris would hate being so dirty; the man was always so fastidious about his person. It would be best if he could wake up somewhere with a shower nearby. Rayflo wouldn't want Chris to stress about this lab anymore. Even if as a vampire, Chris could tolerate more pain much than a human, Rayflo knew that some traits one couldn’t lose, no matter how much time passed.

Frankenstein was quiet for a disturbingly long time, so Rayflo looked up at him. The man, dressed in his pristine suit, with his perfectly styled hair was watching Rayflo with an expression that was strangely soft and almost kind. They couldn't be more different if had they tried: Rayflo with his open shirt and torn throat, blood staining his chest and shoulder and Frankenstein, all wrapped up in expensive wool and cotton, not a hair out of place.

“Agreed,” the blond said finally, his voice still quiet, hands in his pockets. It was as if he were actively making an effort to look unthreatening.

“I can’t leave him alone when he's like this,” Rayflo said, testing how far he could push Frankenstein, but the man was frustratingly hard to read. When he heard no protest, Rayflo reached to his neck, where the messy bites were already healing, and dug his fingers in, opening the wound again until there was fresh blood splashing onto the tiles.

He called up his power, sluggish and unresponsive with how much of him Chris had already taken, and brought Julia out of his blood. The construct shaped and dressed like a maid was slow to form, the blood bubbling for long moments before it formed the familiar shape.

“Stay with him, don’t let him get into trouble.” Rayflo ordered, watching as the maid knelt down and pulled Chris's head and shoulders onto her lap.

When he turned to look up at his host again, Rayflo saw an uncommonly raw expression on his face. The man was watching the maid with eyes wide and filled with a kind of sorrow Rayflo had never expected from someone with Frankenstein’s reputation. What could he have seen that would affect him so? It was gone as soon as Frankenstein noticed Rayflo looking, his face smoothing out into a polite mask. The look wasn’t as cold as before, though. The differences were subtle, but there was a minute change in his scent, the power no longer so close to the surface. Frankenstein’s scent was still dark, still signified danger, but was no longer quite so acrid. Perhaps it was that the ‘hunt’ was done, that Rayflo was no longer a potential enemy.

Because he wasn’t.

Frankenstein gave up on his revenge easily enough, and if possible, Rayflo preferred to trade than to fight needlessly. Frankenstein was surprisingly amenable and Rayflo was absurdly grateful for that fact.

Rayflo pulled his hands away from Chris, giving the vampire hunter one last look before he stood, unfolding from his crouch and turning to face his host.

“What’s next?”

Blue eyes swept over his bloodied chest and sluggishly healing neck, cataloguing every detail. Rayflo wondered if Frankenstein could tell that he was hovering close to crashing, that Chris had taken way more blood from him than usual. Chris was usually careful in his feedings; he’d might have a lot, but rarely ripped out Rayflo’s veins like he had this time. He never took as much blood as he could, and that was also the reason why he had to come back to feed so often. It was also what allowed Rayflo to comfortably feed his childe and still have time to replenish himself in the meantime without much effort. Rayflo couldn’t say what Frankenstein wanted from him, but he hoped it wouldn’t mean losing much more blood.

Frankenstein looked down at the unconscious vampire and Rayflo’s constructed maid holding him protectively, and something passed his expression, a shadow Rayflo couldn’t glean without knowing more about the man. So far Frankenstein was challenging all of Rayflo’s expectations of him. Yes, there was a brutally sadistic streak to the blond man, a potential for untold violence and destruction. He not only held grudges, but carefully cultivated them. Yet he controlled that sadistic streak as well as he dealt with his enemies. With how much he’d witnessed already, Rayflo knew the experiments Frankenstein performed on Chris had been cruel, but not immediately life-threatening. Frankenstein wanted to punish Chris for daring to attack him, but for whatever reason, had actually hesitated in killing him. Rayflo didn’t know why, didn’t even care; only knew that it had given him enough time to tip the balance in Chris's favor. It would be best if he managed to direct Frankenstein’s attention at himself, not the vampire hunter, lest Frankenstein remember his grudge.

“Follow me,” Frankenstein said finally, turning away and leading them out of the room. Rayflo followed, watching the slim figure of his host. The man moved fluidly and quietly, almost soundlessly and Rayflo knew he had combat experience, but couldn’t figure out what sort it had been.

“You are a swordsman, aren’t you?” Frankenstein asked when they arrived at the elevator that had brought them to this level on their way in. Rayflo could feel his eyebrows rise up. He still enjoyed fencing and training different in martial arts, but his time as a knight had been so long ago the training should have been all but erased from his body. “Something heavy, maybe a broadsword.” Frankenstein continued not waiting for Rayflo’s response. 

The lift opened soundlessly and they stepped in, Frankenstein pushing one of the unmarked buttons. The blond looked at Rayflo from the corner of his eyes again, the blue orb sliding over Rayflos body, assessing. There was something exciting about the sharp mind of his opponent, the purely intellectual danger Frankenstein presented. Rayflo liked to play the idiot, because it made him appear harmless and quirky. It made even Chris forget just what kind of power Rayflo had at his disposal, kept his childe from questioning or digging to deeply into Rayflo’s past. He had a feeling Frankenstein wouldn’t be as easily discouraged.

“Fourteenth century?” Frankenstein asked as the lift opened again.

Well, damn.

“Fifteenth,” he corrected, admitting this particular battle lost. 

“Ah,” Frankenstein sounded almost wistful then. “A knight,”

It chilled Rayflo, how unerringly perceptive Frankenstein was. He didn’t like remembering that part of his life, how foolish he had been, how his good intentions had made him the perfect plaything for that shitty devil he’d made a deal with. When anyone called him a knight now, his gut tightened unpleasantly. The almost wistful, deceptively soft tone of Frankenstein’s voice was also more than a little reminiscent of how that devil had called him.

“I know you have combat experience,” Rayflo said a little desperately, trying to shift focus away from himself. “But I can’t place you at any particular style.”

They entered another lab, one set up differently than the one below. Shelves lined the walls the place was cluttered with small devices, books, binders, all overflowing with paper. The devices set out on shelves and cupboards were more compact and smaller. On the farthest was there was a bank of computers, the multiple screens showing locked screens.

On the far right there was a lab table surrounded by a bunch of equipment, everything clean and orderly, but at the same time giving the impression of being less intimidating than the lab they were in before. It was smaller, and on the left there was a desk, an office chair, a laptop and a padded bench next to the setup. The air in this room seemed lighter, and Rayflo wondered if the oppressive feeling from before had come from Chris's pain which had soaked into the walls, or from the different way Frankenstein had seen the rooms.

“My preferred weapon is not physical,” the blond said, extending his right arm. Instantly the purple-black energy from before coated his arm, wrapped around it, changing the way it looked. No longer a normal human arm, but a sharp-edged, jagged, monster arm with corrosive energy sparking from his flesh. Though it didn’t appear to be harming him. Frankenstein twisted his arm, turning it palm up, and the energy dissipated, leaving his skin human pale again. It was now forming a hissing, sparkling ball above his hand, before shattering into a thousand needle-like spikes. Frankenstein shook his hand, as if shaking off water, and the energy dissipated without a trace, as if it was never there.

Rayflo knew some people capable of using energy as weapons, Princess Marie a notable example, but he’d never seen such mastery. 

“You’ve managed to form the energy into physical objects,” Rayflo said thinking of the spikes that had pierced Chris, or the needles Frankenstein demonstrated just moment before.

Frankenstein nodded, his long hair slipping over his shoulder, wavy tendrils sneaking over the front of his black jacket. The brushed gold of it, the perfect way it lay, and the slim-fitting suit made him look very lithe and light, but he _wasn’t_. Under the deception of a handsome man was a warrior, and Rayflo could sense that, even if he couldn’t see it.

“Yes,” Frankenstein nodded, “which is why my body does not carry memory associated with any particular weapons or martial arts.”

“You don't move like a warrior,” Rayflo admitted, “but you feel like one.”

Frankenstein reached for his slim tie, put his finger into the knot and pulled, loosening the tie absently as he used the other hand to wake the computers up. Rayflo watched the man's blue eyes flick over the screens quickly, his hair falling into his face, hiding it from view. Once the tie was loose, Frankenstein pulled away the silk, and the tightly closed collar of his shirt loosened up enough that Rayflo caught a glimpse of a strong neck of golden skin, and he licked his lips.

Whether he liked the guy or not didn’t matter, this cursed body of his would react to attractive males anytime. This was just another thing that was supposed to break him, his body a devil's plaything for as long as he lived. Well, since he couldn’t win, he would subvert the torture into something pleasurable.

“Take off your shirt,” Frankenstein ordered, still not looking at Rayflo. 

The vampire didn't even try stopping his smirk at the words.

“So forward right off the bat?” he teased, but did nothing, waiting for Frankenstein to look at him. When his lack of action pulled the blond’s attention to him, Rayflo let his shirt shred from his body into a million of fading pieces. His clothes were summons, just like his maid or his bats. He could change it or discard it at will, and since they were obviously showing off, Rayflo wasn't about to let himself be outshone.

He had the pleasure of seeing Frankenstein's eyes widen briefly, that shadow passing his face again, before he smoothed out his features. Frankenstein was reacting to something in Rayflo, of that he was sure, but the vampire was having trouble narrowing down the root of the reaction. Long-honed instinct told him that if he figured it out, he could get some leverage over Frankenstein.

“Sit down,” Frankenstein nodded at the lab table, and went to pull a set of drawers on rollers towards the table. Not letting himself be intimidated, Rayflo came closer and hopped onto the table, facing Frankenstein and spreading his legs enough to leave the other man space to stand closer. The view from way the action stretched his jeans over his legs was just an added bonus.

“You can call me Rayflo,” he offered, remembering that he hadn't actually introduced himself yet.

The corner of Frankenstein’s thin lips pulled up in a smirk, appreciating the irony of the situation. 

Frankenstein opened a drawer and pulled out a pack of sterile sterile gauze and a bottle of medicinal alcohol. He opened the bottle and applied the sharp smelling liquid to the gauze in his hand.

“I noticed that when you were bitten, you had a sexual reaction to the feeding,” Frankenstein said straightforwardly while stepping between Rayflo’s knees and applying the cold wipe to his skin. He began cleaning off the blood on Rayflo’s chest. The cotton became soiled quickly, and Frankenstein threw it away, reaching for another. ”Is it psychological or physiological?”

Rayflo let his eyes slide halfway closed and tilted his head back, exposing his throat to the other man. Frankenstein really had a cruel streak, aiming for the soft spots whenever anybody even got close to getting an honest reaction out of him.

“Physical,” he admitted. “The strength of reaction depends on psychological factors, but feeding just feels good.” Frankenstein’s touch was very light, the gauze leaving trails of cold on Rayflo’s skin, making goosebumps appear briefly in the wake of the methodical swipes. Soon there was a small pile of soiled gauze beside him and Rayflo’s skin was tingling from the chill of the alcohol. Frankenstein’s eyes were shadowed and thoughtful. Rayflo wondered if the man truly became softer, or if it was his own skewered perception.

“So the act of feeding is sexual between vampires?”

“Most of the time, yeah. It’s more intense with partners I know and trust. But even an enemy will elicit that reaction to some degree.” There was no use lying about this. It was easy to discover after all.

“Pain?”

Rayflo smiled ruefully, letting his eyes go hooded.

“Isn’t necessarily a discouragement.” If left to him, Rayflo could do without the pain. But Chris was fond of causing it, one of the very few ways he had of expressing his unhappiness at what he’d become. Rayflo may not have wanted pain, but he knew how to live with it, how to accept it. If Frankenstein wanted to cause him pain, Rayflo would be the last person to stop him. 

He watched Frankenstein watch him, the blue eyes behind the glasses unreadable but not cold.

Frankenstein touched the wound on his neck, pressing his fingers onto the damaged skin. Rayflo didn't flinch from the slight pain, didn't break eye contact with the other man, only tilted his head back, offering Frankenstein even more of his neck. They were so close now Rayflo could smell cologne, and under that the pure human scent. He was hungry; Chris had drained him ruthlessly in just a few minutes, and Frankenstein smelled very... alive to him right now.

"It's not healing at a rate I would expect," Frankenstein mused, looking at Rayflo, whose eyes had never left him.

"Cherry is a greedy child at times," Rayflo answered, making his voice low and as sultry as possible. "He took a lot," he admitted, licking his lips. His forked tongue caught Frankenstein's attention, the blue eyes fixing on it.

Frankenstein leaned a little closer, the long tendrils of his long hair falling forward, some tickling Rayflo's naked chest. Rayflo inhaled, making sure to exaggerate the movement enough to show off his pecs and muscular stomach.

"Blood would speed up the process," he admitted freely. He had a feeling Frankenstein knew much about the way vampires worked. Hiding an insignificant detail such as that would only cause more trouble later. For now, Frankenstein seemed fairly cooperative and Rayflo didn't want to lose this thread of connection because of a stupid lie.

"If your blood improved your childe faster than that harvested from humans, would it not stand to reason that feeding from a human or a vampire would heal you faster too?"

Under the pretext of getting more comfortable, Rayflo shifted enough to bring his knees closer, gently pressing them against Frankenstein's legs, feeling the heat of his body through the expensive wool.

"Yes." Rayflo spread out his arms behind him, leaning back, exposing the whole of his chest to Frankenstein. "With the blood, we take in the life of the one we feed on. It's how we kill, too. We don’t just drain all of the blood from our prey, we drain the _life_ out of them."

Again, Frankenstein's focus changed. The cold, sharpness was softened by a shadow, something that looked like longing, maybe hope. But was gone too fast for Rayflo to properly define. Rayflo, again, had done something that affected Frankenstein, but he had no idea what it was.

Frankenstein took his hands away from Rayflo's neck, the small spots of warmth where the fingertips connected almost tingling, and reached for the device closest to them. He pulled out a container of pads. Without explanation or waiting for Rayflo to agree, Frankenstein started attaching the pads to Rayflo's chest. First one went onto his neck, just above the bite. Another on the opposite side. They felt sticky and cold, dragging at his skin as they adhered to it. With quick, nimble fingers Frankenstein attached pad after pad, over Rayflo's heart, under it. On his ribs, making him flinch slightly from their chill. Another one went to on his lower belly, just barely above the belt buckle of his jeans, and Rayflo had to exhale long and slow.

"Lean forward," Frankenstein instructed, and Rayflo slowly shifted from his reclining position to sitting, then leaning forward, nose all but buried in Frankenstein’s blindingly white shirt. The blond man didn't seem affected by the knees pressing slightly at his legs or by Rayflo exhaling slow, moist breaths against his chest. He pulled out even more pads and started attaching them to Rayflo's spine. 

He shifted Rayflo’s ponytail out of the way and attached the first at the base of Rayflo's neck, and then another between his shoulder blades, and more lower, at even intervals. The cold sticky pull of them made Rayflo shiver again, his body confused about the sensation. Rayflo turned his neck, now pressing his nose onto the mass of golden hair falling forward over Frankenstein's shoulder. Some of it tickled his cheeks, some fell onto his face, surrounding him in the pleasant scent of expensive shampoo.

"You smell very nice," Rayflo murmured closing his eyes. Right now he didn't care what was Frankenstein doing. Chris was safe and Frankenstein seemed like a man who kept his word, once he deigned to give it at all. Rayflo decided to wallow in any pleasant sensation available, and Frankenstein was proving to be an exciting and mysterious opponent.

"Done," Frankenstein announced, and pulled back, his voice tighter than before. Rayflo pouted, preferring the warm intimacy of the almost-hug than the sterile lights of the laboratory.

Rayflo watched the blond turn towards the machine closest to them and press a switch on it. Various small screens lit up, showing what appeared to be a startup sequence. Suddenly, the pads on Rayflo's chest glowed. Or rather, the transmitters installed in the middle of each one flashed blue, and the device beeped. Rayflo was curious and apprehensive but refrained from asking questions. The deal they had made was fairly simple, no need to irritate his host with useless queries.

Frankenstein looked at him from the corner of his eye, even as his fingers danced over the keyboard.

"You don't want to know what this is for?" he asked, almost offhandedly.

Rayflo huffed, leaning back on his hands again, catching the way Frankenstein's eyes slid to the flex of his biceps as he did so.

"It doesn't matter." Rayflo rolled his head from side to side. "I promised you anything, didn't I?"

Again, Frankenstein's voice softened, the sharp coldness of it dispersed for no reason that Rayflo figure out. "You did."


	3. Chapter 3

Without any warning, Frankenstein reached for his cufflinks and opened them, putting them into his pocket before he unbuttoned the jacket completely and slid it off his shoulders. Rayflo was right, he thought vindictively, when he saw the way Frankenstein's chest stretched his shirt as he was pulling the jacket off. There were clearly defined muscles so clearly visible now, where before the clever cut of the suit hid them from view. Frankenstein didn't look quite so harmless now, even with his lush hair falling all over his chest. Next Frankenstein crossed the width of the lab, to drape the jacket neatly over the office chair before coming back. Throughout it all he hadn't looked at Rayflo once. When he was back in front of the table he stepped between Rayflo's still-spread knees without a moment of hesitation. Rayflo watched him, mesmerized, as Frankenstein started rolling the sleeve of his white shirt above his elbow, exposing a well-formed forearm, corded with muscle.

He straightened a little on the table, the first stirrings of understanding rising in him even under the disbelief trying to staunch them.

Once the forearm was exposed, Frankenstein extended it towards Rayflo.

"Feed." It was not a request, it was a command, and Rayflo had a moment of disquiet where he couldn't parse the concept at all, the absurdity of the situation finally catching up to him.

"Uh?" Didn't Frankenstein know how dangerous that was? Yes, Rayflo had perfect control over his instincts, was never in danger of letting the hunger control him but Frankenstein didn't know that, had no way of knowing that. It was a ridiculous, insane, and downright stupid thing to do; Rayflo could kill him in moments, could drain his life dry in seconds.

"You most probably won't be able to kill me by simply drinking from me," the blond man said almost gently, very clearly reading Rayflo. "Between my power and my modifications, I would say my regenerative abilities may outstrip even yours."

"You’re not worried I might try?" he asked, strangely disturbed by this turn of events. "what if I broke my word?"

Frankenstein smiled at him then, not the sharp grin of threat or the mocking smirk, but a small, strangely gentle smile.

"You would do anything for that childe of yours," Frankenstein murmured quietly.

Rayflo smirked bitterly at himself. Yes he would. He would do anything for Chris, to ensure his survival, to make sure he was safe. He wouldn't dream of risking pissing off Frankenstein and getting them into trouble. Especially since Rayflo had a feeling Frankenstein could be unbending in his anger.

He took hold of the deceptively slim wrist and raised the forearm to his mouth.

"Show me what drinking my blood does to you," Frankenstein murmured. Blue eyes watched him closely as Rayflo opened his mouth, fangs fully extended, and bit down. His fangs were sharp, and the his saliva had enough numbing qualities in it that he was breaking skin and muscle before Frankenstein even registered any pain. Even if he didn't feed often these days, Rayflo still knew the locations of the main blood vessels, and found them with the same accuracy as ever. His fangs nicked the vein, and blood started pulling out under his tongue. He sucked, slow and steady, waiting for the side effects of the bite to establish themselves before he started pulling more than blood from Frankenstein.

The blood itself was so rich it was almost bitter on his tongue. He could taste the power and age of the man, could taste something that told him Frankenstein wasn't just a human, wasn't ordinary. His blood tasted like no blood Rayflo had ever had, bitter and dark, hitting him like eighty-proof alcohol.

Rayflo felt when the effect kicked in, heard the small, surprised exhalation from above him, and when he looked up from beneath his messy fringe, he saw the pale lips open, the blue eyes just a little glazed with pleasure. Rayflo sucked then, pulling in on more than just the blood, taking the raw power from Frankenstein as well. Both of them moaned then. It hit Rayflo like a truck, the power all but scorching his throat with its potency. 

He could feel his healing factor ramp up, body becoming flush with energy, and he sucked harder; long, slow pulls that filled his mouth with the potent liquid. He kept his eyes open, watched how Frankenstein’s color changed, how his cheeks became pinker and his eyes softer, the pleasure finally chasing away the edge of coldness.

Rayflo pulled away from the wound, seeing how it tried to close immediately. Frankenstein had told the truth about his healing potential. Still, the man watched Rayflo with his eyes half glazed. How he licked his lips, wetting them made it finally click for Rayflo.

“I don’t know who you see when you look at me,” Rayflo said, his voice wrecked by thirst and the desire that the powerful blood was awakening in him, “but I understand now. He’s a vampire isn’t he?” Frankenstein’s eyes widened, some sharpness coming back, and Rayflo spoke again, forestalling the walls Frankenstein was about to raise. “He never did this, never tasted your blood. Never even came close.” And oh, but Rayflo could see it. It was exactly what he did when he tried so desperately to keep Chris safe, keep him human. “He was never yours.”

Frankenstein watched him, his eyes searching for something in Rayflo’s, deception or ill will maybe.

“I can give you what you miss so badly,” he offered, wondering at his own insanity. “I can show you, give you what he won’t ever do.”

“Why,” Frankenstein’s voice was hoarse, ‘why won’t he ever do it?”

Rayflo felt a swell of pity, of guilt, and incredible sadness at the realisation that he wasn’t the only one. Whoever Frankenstein longed for managed to have kept their loved one from harm, unlike Rayflo. He loved and cherished Chris with all his might, did whatever he could to keep that precious childe safe, but in the end he’d had to turn him into a vampire to save him. It was only fitting that he now suffered his childe’s hatred.

But whoever it was Frankenstein was thinking about hadn’t failed. Hadn’t fucked up, had managed to stay away somehow, had kept himself from soiling another human being.

“We might be monsters,” Rayflo said roughly, never breaking eye contact with Frankenstein, “but we still love. We love so hard we destroy the things we love, because humans are not for us anymore.” He lowered his gaze to the wrist he was still holding. Chris stayed by his side by his steadfast vow not to feed on anything but his master. Rayflo knew he would leave one day though. He would either find a different way of feeding, or got killed on one of his vampire hunts, and Rayflo would be left with nothing again, just a body and soul soiled beyond salvation. “If he loves you,” he said helplessly, “he won’t ever touch you.”

Something terrible passed through Frankenstein’s eyes then. Pain and rage and loss, all of that buffeted by bitter understanding. Rayflo hadn’t said anything Frankenstein hadn’t heard before. It wasn't new, but it hurt all the worse for coming from an outsider.

His other hand came up to Rayflo’s hair, tangling in the messy, curly mass.

“I don’t care,” he said fiercely. “I can’t be soiled because I’ve already crawled through the worst filth imaginable, and I _won_.” His fingers were tightening in Rayflo’s hair, his eyes getting wider, the energy about him more unstable. “I came out of it, maybe not sane but _stronger_. And I _trusted_ him, I _followed_ him.” His voice was dropping, sparks of dark, corrosive energy crackling in the air around him. “I gave all of myself to him,” Frankenstein ground out. “Why wasn’t it enough?!”

Rayflo thought of the childe he’d met all those years ago, the wide hungry eyes and the will to live that had broken through even his cold heart.

“He couldn’t,” he said with pity. Just like he couldn’t even have imagined touching Chris when he was human, feeding on him. Never. Not even in a life or death situation. “But I can,” he promised. “I can give you all that you want, show you how it could have been.” It probably wouldn’t help in the long run, wouldn’t truly ease the pain, but Rayflo could give Frankenstein a fantasy to hold onto when there was nothing left but hope. Rayflo was working hard on creating his own fantasies, even if he too was slowly running out them. Maybe Frankenstein wasn’t the only one in need of comfort.

“Yes,” Frankenstein hissed, his eyes still wide and wild with pain. “Yes, show me how it could have been.”

Rayflo wasn’t going to hesitate, wasn't going to make Frankenstein ask again, so he surged up, bypassing the wrist he was holding and the long neck he could just reach if he stretched enough, and went for the other man’s lips, slotting them together.

The kiss was anything but gentle, Rayflo licking past the parted lips in a deep hiss, dragging Frankenstein closer. The other man let out a ragged little sound, his grip on Rayflo’s hair growing tighter as he surged back into the kiss. It was messy and slick, careless of Rayflo’s fangs. The man was hot, the body strong with muscle and life. He smelled of power and darkness and tasted of longing. Rayflo hooked his leg over Frankenstein’s hips and pulled him closer into the vee of his thighs. He gripped the front of Frankenstein’s white shirt and ripped it open from collar to belly, making the buttons skitter every which way.

Rayflo didn’t wait for a written invitation, and pulled his mouth away from the warm wet mouth and sank his fangs into the meat of Frankenstein’s pec, fangs framing the pale nub of his nipple and _sucked_. Blood, power, and life flowed into Rayflo like dark wine. It warmed him up, set his heart to pounding, and made his skin tingle with awareness. His cock hardened. God, this felt so good, the sheer power making Rayflo high. He sucked more strongly, his hands landing on Frankenstein’s sides and pulling him in closer. 

Rayflo’s tongue pressed to the quickly-hardening nub, flicking it even as he pulled the blood out through the bite. He pulled his fangs out, hearing the shuddery exhale above him, feeling the golden hair fall all around him as Frankenstein leaned over. Rayflo bit again, slowly pushing his fangs under the skin. He moaned at the feel of skin dragging at his fangs, the heat of the body he penetrated, and the heady rush of power filling his mouth.

Frankenstein moaned hoarsely above him, both hands now fisted in Rayflo’s hair, his body flushing with arousal and pleasure. Rayflo wasn't taking much, just a little with each suck, every bite, but it was enough to flood his body with pleasure.

“More,” Frankenstein ordered, hoarsely, body sagging against Rayflo, forcing the vampire to hold him up, and Rayflo pulled out his fangs, blood slicking over the flat tight muscle of Frankenstein’s pec. Rayflo flattened his tongue over the wet skin, licking away the excess blood until the small punctures stopped bleeding. The nipple under his tongue was hard and swollen, the skin around it reddened from bites. It looked so good he closed his lips around it and sucked, laving it with his tongue, enjoying the tiny whimpers the action dragged out of Frankenstein. Rayflo didn't expect the blond to be this open, this wanton, and wow, was it a nice surprise, one that stroked the fire inside him all the higher. Rayflo pulled away from the flesh he was abusing to look up at his partner. Frankenstein had a high flush in his face, his eyes were dark, the blue going soft and liquid, wet lips open and panting.

“Do it,” Frankenstein said in a low hoarse voice, as if reading Rayflo’s mind. “Show me everything. Wreck me.”

Rayflo didn't need any more encouragement, not with the heat burning under his skin, the taste of Frankenstein’s blood still on his tongue, and the warmth of the man’s body pressed so close to him. 

He locked his arm around Frankenstein’s waist, lowered his own legs and used his other arm to push up from the table. He hit the floor and lifted the blond in the same move, making good use of his preternatural strength. Frankenstein made a small noise and Rayflo surged to kiss him, hard and messy, fucking him with his tongue the way he wanted to fuck him with his cock. Frankenstein yielded, his hands flying to Rayflo’s shoulders and digging harshly into the muscles, holding on as Rayflo bore them both to the floor.

“I’ll give you what you want,” he promised breaking the kiss and looking at the man stretched on the tile beneath him. Frankenstein’s long hair was fanned out beneath him, a mass of golden silk that practically begged for Rayflo’s fist to tangle into, and pull. Frankenstein was loose and open, his eyes lidded and watching Rayflo fearlessly, challengingly. He was beautiful and sensual, a goddamn feast, and he was challenging Rayflo to partake.

With something as close to a growl as he was capable of, Rayflo bent his head and put his fangs to Frankenstein’s shoulder. Slowly he pushed his fangs in, enjoying the drag of flesh against his fangs until they were as deep as they could go, making the other man really feel it. Rayflo barely took one slow pull of the blood welling up from the bite when he was pulling out, slowly, and shifting, aiming for the second nipple. He blew hot moist air on it, making goosebumps raise up before he put the tips of his fangs against the delicate skin. Slowly he pushed his fangs in, carefully sliding them under the skin until he was settled gum deep, his fangs just barely nicking the blood vessels. The heat and pressure of Frankenstein’s flesh pressing against his fangs made him groan, made his cock harden even more, and he thrust his hips against Frankenstein’s hip as he sucked slowly, pulling the blood up, letting the thick, coppery liquid fill his mouth.

He had to press Frankenstein to the floor as the man arched under him with a moan, hands digging deep furrows in Rayflo’s back, muscles tensing and outlining sharply under the skin. Rayflo bit deeper, sucking harder, and was rewarded with a ragged moan, Frankenstein thrusting his hips up, his clothed erection rubbing against Rayflo’s stomach - hard and hot - so alive. With a rumble of approval and a last suck, Rayflo pulled back, leaving the second nipple as ravaged at the first, and slid down the blond man’s body, dragging his open lips over pale skin, leaving behind erratic smears of blood. Frankenstein had been surprisingly submissive, body yielding to Ryaflo’s touch so sweetly. His eyes were half-closed and face flushed, and Rayflo was sure he saw somebody else in Rayflo’s place. He suspected the sweet submissions wouldn’t last long, not with this one.

He kissed the flat stomach and worked the tightly fitted slacks open, pulling them down along with the underwear, freeing Frankenstein’s cock. It was already hard and flushed, curling a little towards his stomach. Rayflo gave it a little lick, not daring to put it in his mouth with his fangs extended, and Frankenstein made a small, strangled sound, one of his arms landing across his face, hiding his eyes from view.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Rayflo said roughly, heat pooling in his cock at the sight of the man stretched out under him. All that power and temporary submission, the thin thread of control barely keeping the violence in check. Rayflo was playing with fire, and he knew he would get burned eventually but _oh_ , he would have so much fun in the meantime.

Rayflo dragged his open mouth to the slim but muscular thigh, licked the skin there and then pressed his fangs in, slowly, making Frankenstein feel every second of the bite. The man under him arched, his cock rubbing against the side of Rayflo’s head, smearing heat and wetness on his skin. He could see Frankenstein thrash his head from side to side, his golden hair spilling everywhere, sticking to his damp skin. Rayflo was enveloped in the man’s scent, in the heat and power of it, which only served to stroke his lust higher. Rayflo sucked slowly, his control absolute as he pulled the powerful blood to the surface. He drew out his fangs after just one mouthful, kissed the shivering inside of Frankenstein’s thigh, and lipped a little higher, closer to the juncture to his groin. 

The skin there was softer, warmer, more musky, and Rayflo rested just the tips of his fangs there, pressing gently, but not breaking the skin. He cupped a surprisingly bony knee and pushed Frankenstein’s legs further apart, using his shoulders to keep them open, to stay exposed to his lust. Rayflo waited until the shivers grew more pronounced, until he could smell a hint of sweat in Frankenstein’s scent before slowly pushing his fangs in. So carefully, so slowly, he made Frankenstein feel every millimeter of his fangs as he sank them to the gum into the soft flesh of his lover’s muscle. When he was sheathed, Rayflo was gratified with a helpless hitch of Frankenstein’s breathing.

“Do it,” Frankenstein said again, gasping, taking his arm off his eyes and lifting himself to look at Rayflo, blue eyes smouldering and challenging, face flushed with lust. “Push your cock inside me, the way you push your fangs inside me.”

Rayflo let go of the last bite, pulling out slowly enough to enjoy the drag and licked at the blood pooling weakly around the small punctures. He could feel the tendon tense against his lips as Frankenstein fought the instinct to move, to thrust. His cock was even wetter than before, hard and begging for attention. So Rayflo gave it some. He wrapped his hand around it, enjoying the silky soft skin and the hardness underneath, the heat of him. Frankenstein bucked this time, his breath hitching, and Rayflo put his lips around just the tip of him, sucking hard while he did his best to stroke the rest of his cock with his hand still wrapped around the shaft. He watched the way the flush creeped even higher on Frankenstein’s face, the way his eyes became half-lidded and liquid, pale pink lips opened and wet. So much beauty in such a brutal man, it was staggering and mesmerising. Rayflo stopped sucking to just lick at the hard reddened head, the taste of Frankenstein’s precome overwhelming the lingering taste of his blood.

“Lube?” Rayflo asked, dragging his free hand over the hard, flat stomach and to the swollen nipples. He could see that the Frankenstein had been honest when he talked about his healing powers, the bites covering over already. But the healing process itself was working in Rayflo’s favor, making the skin swollen, making Frankenstein’s nipples puffy and sharply sensitive. Rayflo slid the pads of his fingers over the nubs, making Frankenstein all but squirm under his hands.

“The bottle,” Frankenstein pointed to one of the smaller devices which had been stuffed under the wall opposite. Rayflo turned to look and saw the medical-grade lubricant near to what looked to be a ultrasound device. Huh. Useful.

He was unwilling to just withdraw, so he bent his head again, nosing against that shivering, hard belly until he found a place where he could smell the blood closest to the surface. Rayflo licked there, laved his tongue in long, wet strokes before opening his mouth and sinking in his fangs there, making Frankenstein gasp and reach for his hair again, fingers digging without mercy into Rayflo’s scalp. He sucked hard, once, twice, three times, filling his mouth with the thick taste of blood and then pulling back, his fangs going out making Frankenstein moan the same as when they went in.

“I’ll be right back,” Rayflo promised letting go of Frankenstein and rising up. For a brief moment he stared at the mostly-naked man. His chest was littered with bites, his belly and his inner thighs were not any better off, swollen bites with sluggishly bleeding punctures reddening against his pale skin. Frankenstein’s cock was flushed and hard, resting against his stomach. He didn't even try closing his thighs, confident and challenging, staring at Rayflo with molten blue eyes, insistent he do his worst.

The lubricant was odorless and thick, cold on his palm when he poured way too much of it onto his hand. Sinking back to his knees between Frankenstein’s legs, Rayflo let the rest of his clothes disassemble around him, leaving him equally naked. Frankenstein watched him curiously, something dark in his eyes, not completely there in the moment. The vampire couldn’t quite stop himself from nosing at the soft skin near the blond man’s knee before biting, shallowly pushing his fangs in. He didn’t even drink, just pulled back and licked the few drops that leaked out. The scent of blood was making him dizzy, the copper tang of it on his tongue making his cock twitch in anticipation. It was so good, so goddamn good combining both types of hunger and allowing him to sate them at the same time. The want was raising higher and higher, and as Rayflo bit again, just for the pleasure of driving his fangs in, and then more, creating a trail of slow-bleeding punctures heading closer and closer to Frankenstein’s groin. 

His lube-slicked hand locked around his lover’s cock, sloppily spreading the gel there and the lower, over the tight balls and down between the man’s cheeks. Rayflo considered being gentle, being slow and careful with his prep, but Frankenstein had enjoyed the bites so much Rayflo had a feeling he didn’t need to be too careful. He bit again and pushed in his finger, rapidly letting a second digit join it. Both men moaned then, the tight hot clutch of Frankenstein’s body making Rayflo’s desire go highwire.

“I’m not some blushing virgin,” Frankenstein growled, reaching for the vampire’s hair and pulling hard enough to make Rayflo hiss. “Do it,” the blond ordered, his eyes just as fierce as his voice.

Rayflo grinned, pulling his bloody lips from the mangled skin of the inside of Frankenstein’s thigh and shifted on his knees, nudging his way closer to the human. He braced an elbow on the floor, and found himself almost face to face with his host. Rayflo slicked his cock with his still-wet hand, shuddering at the sensation, pleasure making his own breath hitch.

Frankenstein was tight, almost too tight. He made a strained sound as he breached the unyieldingly tight ring of muscle, and slowly, slowly sank inside. Under him, Frankenstein arched, chest stretching out in a high arch, muscles standing out in sharp relief as he was penetrated. So tight, so hot, so good on his cock, Rayflo couldn't have stopped pushing in if he had wanted to. Frankenstein’s hands landed on his back, fingers digging deep, scratching right to the bone as the dark power, like electricity sparked around them against Rayflo’s skin, cutting him shallowly and making him bleed. The scent of blood was almost overwhelming, his own, Frankenstein’s. Rayflo shuddered, bottoming out in that unbelievably tight heat and gasped, getting a noseful of all that heady smell, now sharpened with the tang of power. The pain was inconsequential, serving to merely heighten his pleasure, and Rayflo leaned down to meet Frankenstein’s seeking lips. They kissed, messy and deep, and Rayflo pushed his tongue into the Frankenstein’s mouth the same way he pushed his cock inside him, the way he had pushed his fangs inside him before, fucking him with everything he had.

Bracing himself, Rayflo began moving, hips slowly withdrawing, cock dragging against the tight clutch of Frankenstein's body and then pushing back in, unable to stop himself, mesmerised by the pleasure, by the hedonistic freedom of fucking and feeding. The power sparked against him, leaving shallow cuts and burns, making Frankenstein’s long hair fly around them on the currents of static and power. The blond wasn't one to just take it. He arched like a mad thing, his hands continuing to dig deep scratches against Rayflo’s back as he pulled him closer with brutal want. Frankenstein’s strong thighs were locked against Rayflo’s hips, aggravating the bites into bleeding again, all but suffocating Rayflo with his hunger. With a helpless moan Rayflo dragged his mouth away from Frankenstein’s, lips swollen and tingling and pressed them against the long pale neck.

Frankenstein made the most incredible sound then, a high whine of need, the power leaving him in a thick wave that scorched the laboratory floor and whatever parts of Rayflo it touched, mingling pain and pleasure. Rayflo bit, fangs going sure and deep into the muscle there just as his cock plunged deep into the man’s heat, piercing him at both ends. Frankenstein cried out hoarsely, body in a hard arch, smelling of sweat and blood, of precome and want. He tasted of power, thick and heavy, so rich in potential it made Rayflo’s head swim, made all rational thought drift away. 

He fucked into his host, bodies so close together he could feel Frankenstein’s cock rubbing against his stomach, spreading lube and precome there. He drank, not deeply, even as high as he was on pleasure and power, he managed to not cut the artery. He sucked hard, the blood thick and heavy in power, making his eyes roll back in his head. Rayflo was close now, so full of life and power from feeding on Frankenstein’s addictive blood, from the mind-boggling pleasure of fucking the man, the tight heat, slick and clutching at his cock. His climax built slowly, heat spreading from his belly, the tight coil of pleasure getting tighter and tighter, threatening release. Just when Rayflo thought this was it, he was going to be swept under with unbearable pleasure, Frankenstein arched again with a broken cry, and his body spasmed in a violent orgasm, cock jerking against Rayflo’s belly and spilling, drenching both of them in his release, in the bitter, salty scent of it. It was too much. Between the way Frankenstein clenched down on him, the way the pleasure changed the taste of his blood, the smell of it in the air, Rayflo let go and came too, pleasure swamping his body in velvet waves.

It took time to spend himself completely, long moments of sucking at the freely-offered neck, thrusting his hips shallowly, dragging deep moans out of Frankenstein, chasing the echo of his lover’s pleasure in his blood. Rayflo didn’t even notice when the tornado of power died around them, but when Frankenstein’s hands stopped scrabbling at his back and fell to the floor, Rayflo pulled his fangs away from the lovely neck.

He pulled back, both of them gasping at the sensation. Frankenstein looked dazed and tired, on the verge of passing out from the combination of blood loss and pleasure, a soft sort of look about him. His skin was littered with multiple puncture marks, reddened and swollen in their healing, blood smeared all over his pale skin. He looked relaxed, some of the predatory focus, coldness, so characteristic to the man gone, leaving behind an almost gentle mein.

*

“You’re a mess,” Ryaflo murmured, spreading his hand over the sweat-slick chest and dragging it down to the belly, leaving behind tiny smears of blood.

Frankenstein snorted, the softness dissipating. Rayflo watched him roll to the side, and then to his feet, watched the muscles shift under the pale skin, watched the bite marks bleed sluggishly in a few places he pulled while moving. His eyes roamed lower, over the straight back to the tight, muscular ass and the traces of slickness visible there.

“I need a shower,” Frankenstein announced, bending down to gather his clothes. He wasn’t looking at the vampire, but his aura was still calm, the dark energy hidden. He registered as nothing else but a normal human on Rayflo’s senses. it was a strange and oddly intoxicating thing, the mystery whetting his appetite.

He followed after the blond, watching the sway of his messy hair against his back. Neither of them spoke as they walked through the dark house, leaving the laboratory area and reaching the obviously residential part with expensive carpets and tasteful modern furniture. Rayflo knew that the bedroom they reached wasn’t Frankenstein’s. It was too impersonal and bland, obviously a guest room, because whatever Frankenstein lay wasn’t bland by any means.

Rayflo leaned his shoulder on the wall, watching Frankenstein pull towels from a linen closet near the bathroom and then disappear inside. He watched the closed door for long moments, thinking about the human, about Chris, and the way he never touched Rayflo unless it was to hurt him or drain him. He knew Chris had a right to his hatred, was suffering the curse of their existence brought on by him. He knew he deserved whatever Chris chose to do, but Rayflo still _missed_. He wanted to be touched, wanted to touch and to _feed_. He missed the connection, the ability to share his body freely without having to hide what and who he was. He didn’t need to hide with Frankenstein. 

He pushed into the bathroom, the hot steam enveloping him in a fragrant cloud. He could see Frankenstein’s silhouette behind the steamed-up glass. The man had his palms pressed to the expensive tile, head lowered as the hot water beat down on him, washing away the blood Rayflo smeared over him, making the pale skin pink and the long hair dark, almost reddish-blond as it stuck to his wet skin in long tendrils. He looked different, powerfully male in the way the wet flattened hair no longer obscured the wideness of his shoulders or the sharp way his chest narrowed down into slim hips.

Rayflo stepped into the shower stall, feeling the hot water hit his skin, his hair, flattening the curls out. He pushed the wet mess back from his face and stepped closer to Frankenstein. The human turned his head to the side, enough to watch Rayflo from the corner of his eye, but not bothering to turn to him completely.

“I hope you didn’t think,” Rayflo murmured pressing his hand to the warm, wet skin of Frankenstein’s back. “that was enough to satisfy a vampire?”

He could see the faintly pink lips part in an exhale, but Frankenstein said nothing when Rayflo pressed his body along the length of his back, nestling his already again-hard cock at the small of his back. The blood, heavy with power, was thrumming in his body and making him hunger even more for this. For touch, for sex, for blood and the slow fantasy they were building.

Frankenstein’s lips turned up at the corner and he tilted his head, just slightly, but enough to expose his neck to Rayflo.

“Do your worst, then,” he invited, closing his eyes when Rayflo slid both his hands down his back, to the tight cheeks and then slipped fingers between them, tracing the slightly swollen rim there. He slid a finger in, going easy on the leftover slick and his own come. He watched Frankenstein’s nostrils flare and lowered his head to the unmarked shoulder and scraped just the tips of his fangs over the flushed skin. Frankenstein’s back was way too pristine, he needed to mark it up to match the man’s front.

“You do like to live dangerously,” Rayflo laughed, pulling his finger out and spreading those tight cheeks apart. They were just the right height for him to put the head of his cock at the slightly loose tender hole and press in slowly. Frankenstein wasn’t as painfully tight as before, his body giving in easier, sweeter, after already being fucked once that night. Rayflo caught the almost soundless moan, just heard under the gushing of the water as he slid in all the way; silky walls clutching at him deliciously. He pressed his fangs against skin, just at the juncture of Frankenstein’s shoulder, and neck and sank them in just as slowly, enjoying the way his flesh parted for his fangs with the same ease it did for his cock. Another moan, this time louder left Frankenstein, and Rayflo felt fingers tangle in his hair, pulling his head lower, urging him to bite deeper.

Frankenstein’s healing factor meant he wouldn't pass out if Rayflo fed a few more times , if he fucked him a few times more this night. They had time, and with the hunger awakened, Rayflo intended to satisfy it thoroughly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is a bonus chapter written specifically for Quarra and her wonderful art - it happens after a time skip and I think you all will love the main pairing :D


	4. Chapter 4

 

Over fourty years had passed since day Rayflo had met Frankenstein for the first time, since Chris had nearly got himself murdered by the Vatican’s scheming. Well, it wasn’t the last time his childe barely escaped destruction because of his beloved church, and Rayflo had learned to keep a discreet eye on them.

He didn’t meet with Frankenstein often, once every decade at the most. The deal they’d struck carried on because it was beneficial to them both. Chris fed on Rayflo without mercy, and even though his regenerative powers were superb, Rayflo still needed to replenish from time to time. Frankenstein’s blood was powerful and rich, filling him for years instead of short weeks. He never asked if the fantasy Frankenstein lived during their encounters helped or hurt the man more. Rayflo understood the idea of pain being too sweet to let it go when the thing on the other end was only loneliness.

The countries changed, the times changed, even the rules of their encounters changed over time. Some things remained the same though; Frankenstein never slept when Rayflo was still on the premises. The blond man would allow himself to drift, stay in a lethargic doze but never allow himself to drop off until Rayflo was gone. This time was the same in that regard. The country was Korea, their place of meeting not Frankenstein’s home but an expensive suite at the top of one of the luxurious high rises in Seoul. The capital was teeming with life, headlights of the cars casting a constant glow over the city, visible even as high as they were.

It was the first time Frankenstein had asked to meet in a hotel, the man usually preferring his own territory, liking the control it gave him. Rayflo leaned on the balcony railing and watched Frankenstein on the messy bed. He had no idea how much it would cost Frankenstein to make sure the cleaning services didn’t report the amount of blood staining the high quality sheets. Rayflo had been hungry this time, and Frankenstein more violent than usual, clawing Rayflo without mercy and making him bleed. He was quiet now, just drifting among the soiled sheets, eyes closed and chest slowly rising and falling.

There was a series of bites marching down Frankenstein’s shoulder, down his arm, and back up to his chest. Both his nipples were swollen, surrounded by a careful line of fang marks Rayflo had spent hours making sure were just right. He liked that, pressing Frankenstein flat and pushing his fangs into the human's skin slow and deep, sucking just hard enough to make him squirm, and then repeating the process until Frankenstein was damp with sweat, and clenching his teeth against begging. It was unexpectedly sweet, unexpectedly freeing to be able to fuck the man as often as he liked during his feedings. That he could push those pale thighs apart and push his cock inside that hot body the way he pushed his fangs into that supple flesh. There was a sense of accomplishment that came with divesting this powerful man of his composure. Rayflo was slow and he was methodical, making sure all the warm and tender places were covered in his bites, making sure to taste Frankenstein everywhere. After all, it wouldn’t do to let the man think he wasn’t serious about his work.

Frankenstein was the only partner Rayflo had that Chris couldn't say anything against. Rayflo couldn’t say exactly what Chris thought about Frankenstein, his childe never allowing this topic of conversation to come up, but Rayflo suspected that if it was possible to burn Frankenstein at the stake, Chris would do his best to try.

Frankenstein’s hair was a mess, sweaty and spread around the bed, a few tendrils sticky with blood where Rayflo had been too slow to lick it away, or the bites had bled before closing. Frankenstein looked shattered and almost ethereally beautiful with his aggression banked for the moment. Rayflo stubbed out the rest of his cigarette in the ashtray at the small, glass table perched in the corner of the balcony.

He exhaled, watching the smoke carry away on the warm breeze, and considered the wisdom of what he was about to do. No, probably not all wise to pursue that faint presence he could feel watching him. Watching him and Frankenstein to be exact. It wasn’t a sense of power, no, there was nothing of that. It was the sense that called kin to kin, something Rayflo had rarely experienced before. It never felt like this when he’d met other vampires, like his beloved Cherry, ones created as a second generation. No. This felt like _kin_. Like that devil. Like an existence as out of place as his own. Going by his own history, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to poke something like that. Still, he watched as Frankenstein moved, shifting onto his side, exposing the muscular line of his back and the dozen or so bites scattered across it.

Rayflo had been _hungry_.

He’d never got close to Frankenstein over the years. They never talked about their lives outside of these encounters. Frankenstein never inquired about Chris, and in turn, Rayflo never asked about Frankenstein’s business. Or the vampire that Rayflo was clearly a stand-in for. He liked to think they at least liked each other. After that first night, Rayflo could tell Frankenstein had abandoned his grudge against Chris. The following liaisons were not a result of the deal, though neither of them framed it in such terms, they were merely a convenience. Rayflo wanted blood, Frankenstein wanted his fantasy, and if one of them found temporary release or comfort from the other, nobody admitted it out loud.

Rayflo was weak though. He had a tendency to get attached, wanting to help where he should just walk away for his safety, and this time seemed to be no exception. With a sigh he let his clothes form around him, the jeans and the black button up. He even remembered his jewelry, the rings and the fancy choker around his throat. If he was going into battle, it was best to go prepared.

With a thought Rayflo disassembled his body, tearing it into a swarm of bats. He left the hotel and travelled higher, to the rooftops and further away, to the highest one barely at the edge of his senses. He let himself reform on the rooftop, going slow about it, letting the bats circle around once, twice, and then slowly take shape in his body as he looked at the person standing at the edge.

He looked young. Younger than Frankenstein, hell, even younger than Chris. Frankly, Rayflo wouldn't even peg him for nineteen yet. He looked and smelled human, just a pretty slip of a boy, really. Elegant and slim, wearing what he suspected was a school uniform, with soft hair that just reached his shoulder. He looked alluringly pretty and unthreatening. The way Rayflo’s own blood, his own power squirmed so close to this man told him a different story. The way he didn’t react to Rayflo’s display of power also spoke volumes. He was either familiar with the kind of power Rayflo commanded, or he found it completely unthreatening. Rayflo didn't like either of those things.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked, reaching for his cigarettes and a lighter. Really, so much power and he couldn’t light his own cigarette except in the old-fashioned way.

Rayflo caught the minute flinch from the other man. Something in Rayflo’s crass statement caught the man’s attention. Still, the stranger refused to look at Rayflo, refused to say anything at all. Was he pretending Rayflo didn't exist? Well, he did come prepared for battle. It didn't matter what kind it was.

“I felt you even before I arrived,” Rayflo spoke, watching the young man carefully. He noticed his eyes weren’t black, not truly. They were red, but the red was so dark it was only when the light caught them that he noticed the colored undertone. “You were watching Frankenstein.”

Something in the young man’s demeanor clued Rayflo in to a shift in attention. The man’s gaze was still firmly set into the distance, keeping an eye on where Frankenstein lay, but the air about them was bright with focus. It was a listening silence.

“You didn’t leave though,” Rayflo mused, his unlit cigarette dangling in his fingers, forgotten as he stared at the other man. “You stayed and watched as I stripped him.” He lowered his voice, looking to press that button that would make the other man react. “You watched as I put my fangs into him and drank his blood.” Another twitch, this time more pronounced. The man did not like Rayflo feeding on Frankenstein. Didn't like it at all. “You stayed to watch as I fucked him.”

The dark eyes lightened, the red becoming more pronounced before it faded out again. He could feel a brief stirring, an endless, vast power stirring around them, making his own magic twitch and coil inside him in ways even Barry couldn't provoke. It stunned him, how could a being so small, so fragile looking hold such immense power. Rayflo felt as though this should burn him from the inside out.

He might not be as ancient as Frankenstein, and if this was the vampire that Frankenstein was waiting for, it would stand to reason he was closer in age to Frankenstein than his looks suggested. But Rayflo lived his years in almost constant conflict. First the demon, and then Barry - they delighted in finding his weaknesses and exploiting them, twisting and torturing until there was very little that could anger Rayflo anymore. Not until he’d met Chris in that complete ruin of a church.

“A stranger would have left,” Rayflo murmured. “A friend would have left to spare Frankenstein’s dignity.” The man didn't move, but the sense of power returned. Faint and curbed, it was still there. Rayflo was hitting just the right nerve. “That tells me you are neither.” He leaned closer, a mockery of confidence. “It tells me you wanted to see him naked and squirming on my cock.”

The man turned his eyes at this finally, the red more pronounced than before, but face still carefully blank.

“Take care of how you speak about Frankenstein.” The voice was low and pleasant, the manner of speech calm and careful. A royal, and old one too.

“Why?” Rayflo asked, feigning incomprehension. “You didn’t grant him any respect,” he pressed, needling the crack he’d found. “What right do you have to demand that of me?”

The man pressed his lips together, the small muscles around his mouth tensing briefly.

“You are betraying his trust with the careless words you speak,” the man parried back, clearly unwilling to admit to Rayflo catching him out.

“Trust?” Rayflo snorted, spreading his arms in a showman’s move, showing off his naked chest and the choker wrapped around his neck, forcing the man to look, to _pay attention_. “It’s not trust he gives me,” Rayflo said, watching for the blood he was about to pull, “it’s his desperation.”

His barb hit its mark, the brief widening of eyes, all the micro-expressions of pain flashing lightning fast over the smooth features.

“He is not...” the man started speaking but Rayflo cut in, wanting to break that control, wanting to dig his hooks in deep enough the man wouldn’t be able to close the wound.

“In pain?” Rayflo made his voice sharp and decisive, cracking in the air like a lash, “He’s in agony. He’s been in agony as long as I have known him.”

The lips, parted to continue the original sentence, fell open and the dark red eyes skittered back to the direction where Frankenstein was resting, unaware of the polite battle.

“Didn’t you realise?” Rayflo asked, making his voice softer, quieter. “That he wants you so badly he is willing to let a vampire make a meal out of him because it lets him pretend?”

The man, looking so young and gentle, closed his eyes, and the sense of his power was pushed down even more. He too looked to be in pain now. Rayflo’s words cut as deep as his sword ever could.

“We all make our own choices,” Rayflo said, watching the young man as he lit his cigarette. He wanted to sound sympathetic, though was aware he sounded more like a judge delivering a sentence, “but we don’t get to ignore them afterwards,” he said angrily. He thought about Chris, so hurt by Rayflo’s abandonment he’d turned all who rejected love to the church, becoming consumed by it. Rayflo didn't comment on the monstrous ‘upgrades’ Chris had done to his body in order to be closer to a god that hated his very existence. “You can make whatever decision you want, but you are obligated to own it.” There was a growl in his voice now. Whenever Rayflo remembered that rainy night, with Chris bleeding out in his arms, begging to stay with him… it broke him all over again; the crushing reality of his failure, the scope of his mistakes and poor choices.

“How can I,” the man said unexpectedly, turning to look at Rayflo. “How can I give him what he wants when I’m…” He trailed off, unwilling to share some detail with Rayflo. But that was okay, Rayflo had already gotten more from the man than he’d expected. “It’s for his own good.”

Rayflo laughed, bitter and loud. How naive, to think they could do something for another person’s own good. It was the first lesson the demon that turned him had taught him. They could barely keep their own minds intact, they couldn’t control another person’s life that way.

“I can tell you are powerful,” Rayflo observed. “That brief glimpse of power I got from you was enough to tell me you are ridiculously strong and probably old to boot.” He inhaled the smoke and looked up at a sky polluted by light; he couldn’t see the stars. “But you don’t know humans at all, do you?”

“I have watched them for much longer than you have been alive,” the other vampire protested, and Rayflo snorted.

“And yet, you know nothing of how they love” He put the cigarette to his lips again. “They burn with it, with an all consuming, destructive flame. It’s true that love gives them strength to do wonderful things, but an unrequired one can twist them, burn them out and make them do horrendous things,” Rayflo thought about the way the touch of Chris's hands had felt, and how the man had cut them off himself just to be able to touch holy objects. Just for that. Just to pray to a god that despised him. “And they do those things to themselves.” Rayflo thought of his own existence, of how much he loved his country, his princess. Of all the things he allowed to happen to him just for the chance to save them. Of how useless all of that has been. “And Frankenstein burns brighter than anyone I have ever met.”

The silence lengthened, and then soft as can be, the young man said, “Frankenstein has always burned. But you think he burns for me…”

“I don’t think. _I know_. You think he would let any vampire drink his blood and break him the way he lets me do it?” Rayflo let a corner of his lips curl up in a mocking smirk. “He found one as close to you as he could,” He took a drag of his cigarette. “You know what really caught his attention about me?” Rayflo put his fangs to his wrist and ripped it open, letting himself bleed. Out of the blood he called one of his constructs, the maid forming beside him with just a thought.

“Blood manipulation,” the other man murmured, eyes roving Rayflo’s construct.

“I thought it was just interest in a previously unseen skill at first, but meeting you I understand now. It was because you have it also, don’t you? I can feel it, just under my skin. that potential of yours.”

The other vampire nodded, eyes still on the construct.

“And you must have noticed, when you watched us have sex,” Rayflo pointed out casually, enjoying the little flinch it caused, “that he never _looks_ at me when I fuck him.”

The young man’s gaze finally dropped, his shoulders slightly slumped. The barest of sighs escaped him.

“How much would you bet” Rayflo continued ruthlessly, going in for the kill, “that it’s not my face he sees behind his closed eyes?”

“I would not be good for him,” the other man said, eyes sliding back to where Frankenstein was probably sleeping.

“And being drained almost to unconsciousness by strange vampires is?”

The other man closed his eyes, and this time the sense of resistance Raflo felt from him faded out completely.

“I cannot win this argument with you.” It was half-praise, half-complaint. As if the man wasn't used to losing.

“You can’t,” Rayflo agreed easily. “Because I was in your shoes. I did what you did. I tried to protect a human with all that I had. I denied myself everything for his sake.” Rayflo’s hands were shaking as he brought the cigarette up to his lips again. “All I managed to bring him was ruin.” He exhaled, trying to calm down, banishing the phantom sensation of rain and tears on his face. “I would have given anything for somebody to give me a kick in the ass before things went too far.” If his voice was a little too shaky, well, there was nothing to do about it now.

“My name is Cadis Etrama Di Raizel,” the stranger said, turning to face Rayflo with the calmest, steadiest expression Rayflo had ever seen on a man chased into a corner. It still threw him just how young he looked, how pretty, with the wisps of black hair framing his handsome, very pale face. The cross earring dangling from his ear was a strange choice of jewelry for someone as reticent as this guy, and Rayflo suspected there was a story behind it. “People call me Rai.”

Rayflo looked down at the almost burned out cigarette.

“Johnny Rayflo.” It was close to his real name and would be an adequate exchange.

The dark red eyes considered him with a careful neutrality and thoughtfulness that sent shivers down his back.

“You are not welcome here.” Rayflo couldn't help but smile wryly at the gentle way Rai marked his territory. There was just a hint of the unfathomable power in the air again. Under the inescapable sense of it, there was a corrosive, painful tang that made Rayflo wonder what kind of price the guy had to pay for being this powerful.

“You going to go to him?” Rayflo asked, letting the butt of his cigarette fall to the floor and he extinguished it with his heel.

“Yes,” Rai admitted.

“Drink from him,” Rayflo said as he let his body disassemble again, bats appearing in twos and threes, “he won't believe you otherwise.”

\---

He could tell the vampire was gone, the sense of him gone from the vicinity. With an exhausted exhale, Frankenstein allowed himself to relax, to let his guard down. With effort, he rolled over onto his side, then nearly onto his front trying to find some kind of comfortable position. He was tired, body exhausted and aching.

He’d gone a little wild tonight, goaded Rayflo into draining him halfway to unconsciousness, into marking his body with bites all over. His skin and muscles ached where the the fangs pierced him. Frankenstein shivered remembering the absolute ecstasy of the bites, how the pleasure followed the pain and made everything in him feel loose, pushing away the darkness that was always just under his skin. With a groan, he flattened himself onto his front, the pressure on the bites easing the pulsing ache of the bites around his nipples and along his belly.

Frankenstein closed his eyes, letting himself drift off to sleep. He was so tired, body completely exhausted. He was also a mess, blood, saliva and other fluids still on his skin. This nagged at him, his sense of cleanliness clamoring at him to rise and shower, but there was no way he was moving for the next few hours. Not with how much blood he’d lost, or with how much sex he’d had while Rayflo had been there. Ablutions would have to wait until he was stronger. Then he would shower, and probably burn the sheets too. Frankenstein drifted off into the calm dreamless sleep that only came to him after Rayflo’s visits, when even _his_ thirst was quenched.

A dip in the bed that woke him, jerking his heart into overdrive as his sleeping self realised there was _somebody with him_.

“Frankenstein.” One word, quiet and gentle, and he felt what was left of his blood turning to ice.

His master was there, his master was close enough to see him. and see him in this condition. With a surge of adrenaline Frankenstein managed to lift himself onto his elbows, but not much further. After the initial burst was gone, he was overcome with shivers, his exhausted body refusing to cooperate. The shudders wracked him, goosebumps marching over his skin as his body rebelled. He let his head hang, his hair falling around him, mercifully obscuring his face, hiding him as the curls spilled over dirty sheets.

Frankenstein had no idea what kind of image he presented, but it couldn't be anything good. Not with how particular his master was about being cleanliness. He’d never seen his master so much as touch another person, much less engage in something as filthy as what Frankenstein had. He was glad for his hair, all in his face, not only obscuring his master’s vision but also his own, so that he couldn’t catch even a glimpse of what he was sure was disgust.

“Frankenstein.” His master’s voice was soft but unyielding. Frankenstein flinched, lowering his head even further, letting the mass of hair become his whole world. When he felt the first touch of cool slender fingers on his trembling back he didn’t flinch, only because of exhaustion.

The touch slid from between his shoulderblades, soft fingertips skimming a line of bites Rayflo had left there and then travelled to his neck. Frankenstein shivered again, trembling like a newborn foal when he felt those fingers tangle gently in his hair at the side of his neck and then, strand by strand, start pushing them away from his skin. He was hyper-focused on that slow, gentle touch. He was aware of nothing but that touch, even the ache of Frankenstein’s body, the exhaustion that made him shiver, faded from his mind, just the careful tugs remaining as his master smoothed out his hair, each curl, before carefully placing them over Frankenstein’s opposite shoulder. When his neck was exposed, his master touched his thumb to the tensed line of his tendon. Frankenstein shivered again as he felt the thumb travel higher, until the cool pad dragged over the wounds Rayflo had left, the puncture marks just over his jugular.

“You let him bite here?” his master’s voice was as quiet as always but Frankenstein thought he could hear a colder tone in it this time. He opened his mouth to answer, but the thumb was still there, still dragging over the bite, shooting sparks of sensation down his spine. The sensation didn't quite hurt, but made thinking difficult. Frankenstein didn’t know what to feel, guilt and shame fighting with befuddlement and the first stirrings of anger. He had no idea what his master was thinking, why was he even here? Had he followed Frankenstein? Did he know what had happened here? Frankenstein almost snorted to himself. Of course his master knew, one would have to have been an idiot not to understand the picture Frankenstein painted sprawled here, trembling and filthy with the other vampire’s release.

“Master,” Frankenstein managed to croak out, pleading for what, he had no idea. Mercy, maybe.

“I want to see,” his master said in that same strangely tight voice, “just how much of you he got to taste.”

Everything about this moment was wrong. Frankenstein had no idea when his master had gotten here, what he wanted, what he thought. During his encounter with Rayflo, Frankenstein had made sure to keep his mind as tightly closed as he could, terrified his master would catch a glimpse of his shameless desire.

“Let me shower,” he begged, trying hard not to let his voice crack.

The thumb stopped just over the bite, pressing in harder this time.

“Turn around.” The voice was as unyielding as during any battle Frankenstein had witnessed.

He made a sound of protest that he choked down in the middle, feeling conflicted and confused, unable to understand what was happening, but equally unwilling to deny his master’s orders.

“He spoke to me,” his master said suddenly, hand sliding from Frankenstein’s neck to his shoulder, long fingers curling over the swell of his bicep.

Frankenstein needed a moment to fully ascertain the meaning of his master’s words. Rayflo. Fucking Rayflo had meddled where he was not allowed to. Frankenstein was going to find the vampire and kill him, slowly, painfully, probably by skinning him. His power rose up to the surface, glistening over his skin, sparks charring the soiled sheets wherever they touched him. In response to his own reaction, his master’s power also rose up. The Noblesse brushed his hand over the exposed skin of Frankenstein’s back, just above his spine, dissipating his power as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if Frankenstein was merely a child having a tantrum.

“Show me,” his master repeated, voice still gentle but firm at the same time. Frankenstein had always known that about his chosen master; he could be just as unyielding as he was merciful.

The outcome was easy to predict. Frankenstein wouldn’t deny his master, no matter how much he didn't want to show him the extent of how Rayflo had marked him. The way his master had arranged his hair meant Frankenstein had to turn towards him. His muscles trembled and outright refused to cooperate at first when he tried rising up on his elbows enough to turn. He failed the first attempt, his left arm giving way and almost dropping him face down into the bed. But once he was committed to a course of action, something as trivial as exhaustion wouldn’t stop Frankenstein, and he clenched his jaw and tried again. He faltered momentarily when he again felt his master’s touch at his back, cool, smooth hands gathering the heavy mass of his hair, and lifting it up.

_Helping_ him.

His master touched him so rarely, almost never outside of battle. And even if he did come to Frankenstein’s aid, as he sometimes had in the aftermath of a fight, his master usually used his power, not his hands to do so. It stunned him, the touch sending shivers down Frankenstein’s back, energizing him enough so that he managed to gracelessly flop over.

His master followed his movement, making sure to spread Frankenstein’s hair above him on the pillows. When Frankenstein was flat on his back again, his master didn’t take his eyes away from the hair he was so carefully arranging on the bedding. Each strand was put just so, the curling ends stretched beside Frankenstein’s shoulders. The shorter strands stuck to Frankenstein’s face with sweat were brushed with just the tips of his fingers. He closed his eyes, heart pounding painfully in his chest as his master smoothed the thicker strands from his forehead, from his cheeks. Frankenstein could swear his heart stopped completely when he felt his master’s fingertips brush his lips, taking away the few hairs stuck there and smoothing them back with the rest of the curly mass. His eyelids fluttered when he felt a careful touch on his eyelashes.

“I hate that he got to touch you,” his master murmured, as Frankenstein felt the gentle touch slide to his chest, resting just over his breastbone.

The words didn't quite compute, the meaning skittering sideways and falling off his mental map. Did this mean his master was disgusted by letting a creature as filthy as Rayflo touch him? The other vampire had was created by a demon after all.

His master’s dark eyes were now at his chest, the red lightning with emotions, or power, Frankenstein couldn’t tell. His master’s hand moved from his breastbone to his pectoral muscle, resting over the still-swollen and sensitive nipple framed by a neat ring of bites. Frankenstein’s eyes fluttered closed, the sensation stunning him with its intensity.

“I hate it because we are the same,” his master said unexpectedly, and Frankenstein’s eyes shot open.

“What?” he yelped, “No! He is just a vampire. Older and more powerful than most but…”

“The source of our power is the same,” his master interrupted, trailing his hand down Frankenstein’s belly, fingertips catching on every bite, every mark.

“He made a pact with a demon for power,” Frankenstein protested, unable to reconcile the shameless, hedonistic, broken man that was Rayflo with his noble master.

The touch of cool hand on his belly made him suck it in, made him shudder like leaf.

His master smiled, just a tiny curl of his lips. “The first Noblesse twisted the deal in his favor,” he said unexpectedly.

Frankenstein opened his mouth but didn't manage to say anything. The implications of his master’s words sent him reeling. He knew there were similarities between his master and Rayflo, that was what made the fantasy so sweet, so realistic. Frankenstein had no idea how to feel about the fact he was a lot more in the right than he had imagined.

“I don’t drink blood, I don't have to,” his master explained. “My ancestors made sure that the thirst would not plague us.” His master’s hand slid to the hard jut of his hipbone, over another set of bites, and rested there in a possessive gesture that sent a completely different kind of shiver down Frankenstein’s back. “But I can,” his master said, his voice lowering even as it remained as quiet as ever. “I have all the required.. faculties.”

“What?” Frankenstein blinked uncomprehendingly up at his master. It took him a moment to recognise the lighter shadows against the pale man’s lips.

_Fangs_.

His master had _fangs_.

Frankenstein felt as if his whole world was tilting on its axis again.

“I _hate_ that he got to bite you,” his master said vehemently, gripping the edge of the soiled sheet and pulling it down slowly. Frankenstein’s heart flipped again, the knowledge of how messy he was down there burning shame onto his cheeks. There were bites on his thighs, his legs. What was worse was the slick smeared over his thighs, and Rayflo’s come still leaking out of him after all that they had done together. His master was about to _see_ that.

“Please,” Frankenstein begged, desperate and ashamed. He would never push his master away, but he was terrified of what the expression on his face would be when he saw what Frankenstein had allowed himself to become.

The flimsy sheet slid away easily, and Frankenstein closed his eyes, terrified. The cool air felt almost pleasant on his burning thighs where the bites were swollen and reddened from friction, from the way Frankenstein had clenched them around Rayflo’s hips when the vampire had fucked him.

“Frankenstein.” His name on his master’s lips was the sweetest torture, making his heart skip a beat. His master put his hand on one of Frankenstein’s knees, a gentle pressure, barely there at all as he looked down, probably feeling the way Frankenstein’s cock was plumping up against his thigh. “Spread your legs, Frankenstein,” he requested, and the words blazed a white hot trail in Frankenstein’s mind. Terror and desire, incomprehension and sheer confusion, excitement and embarrassment were warring within him. His master wasn't forcing his legs apart, wasn't even exerting much pressure, but his orders were more powerful than any physical force could ever be.

Frankenstein was trembling so hard his teeth were chattering. His hands were closed into fists at his sides, and his chest was heaving. He had no idea what to do, what to think, but there was no way he could deny a direct order like that. When his master had come to him so many years ago and told him his power was going to be sealed, he hadn’t argued, even though his power had been the reason for his existence for so long. Frankenstein had bent his head and allowed himself to be caged. This, what his master was asking, was nothing in comparison.

Slowly, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than ever before, he spread his knees, parting his thighs to let his master see all that he wished.

“Even here,” his master whispered, cool hand closing over the soft skin on the inside of his thigh. “He even got to bite you here.” It was almost as if his master was talking to himself as he slid his curious fingers from the bony knee, over the hot, delicate skin of the inside of Frankenstein’s thighs and the raised up bites, down between his legs. Frankenstein’s eyes flew open and stared blindly at the ceiling as he felt the touch slide over the slick smeared over the inside of his legs. The cool fingertips reached the bottom of his cheeks, and then _between_ them. They rested at the swollen sensitive entrance to Frankenstein’s body, just rubbing the soft skin there.

“He marked you even inside.” Frankenstein stopped breathing when he felt two of those fingers slide inside him, sure and smooth, knowing they owned every inch of him, even inside. His own arm flew out then, hand closing over the smooth cloth of his master’s sleeve.

“Master.” He had no idea what to say, what to ask, not sure if he wanted to protest or beg for more.

“I won’t let this stand,” his master declared, eyes finally locking with Frankenstein’s. “I won’t let him be the last one to have drunk your blood.” The fingers inside him weren't moving, just resting there, heavy and breaking his mind with the intimacy of it, the shock of going from no contact at all to his master’s fingers inside him, sliding through the abundance of lube, and someone else’s come.

“I..” Frankenstein licked his lips, throat parched and heart pounding. “You’ll get dirty,” he said aloud but it wasn’t what he meant to say.

“I won’t,” his master said shifting on the bed and leaning closer to Frankenstein. “You can’t make me dirty,” he murmured, eyes the color of blood, answering the real question Frankenstein didn’t have the courage to ask.

Frankenstein closed his eyes, letting his arm fall away, letting his master have whatever he wanted. “Yes,” he murmured, eyes closed. Whatever his master wanted, to touch him or to cut him open; he would agree to anything.

“Say my name,” his master whispered, bracing his free hand beside Frankenstein’s shoulder.  
Frankenstein floundered, panicked for a moment. Which name? The full one? The last one? The nickname? He couldn't bear to disrespect his master, but as he’d been asked...

“Raizel,” he settled on finally, the most respectful name he could choose without being impersonal.

“I’m going to bite you now,” Raizel murmured as he let his clothes melt away into fading specks of power. He shifted above Frankenstein, but the human’s mind was reeling so badly he only realised what was happening when he felt the fingers inside him move, withdraw, and the wet hand come to land on his knee. It was pushed outwards as his naked master settled himself over Frankenstein, between his legs, head bending to his neck.

With a whimper, feeling his cock twitch and do its best to harden, Frankenstein titled up his head, exposing his throat. Raizel’s breath fanned over his neck, his jugular, before Frankenstein felt the hard, sharp tips of his master’s fangs press against his skin.

He whimpered, arching, as the fangs pierced him. The bite wasn't as skillful as Rayflo’s, it hurt more, the lack of experience clear, but the ecstasy of having is master do it, of having that part of his master inside him, of feeling him suck at his blood, drink it, whitened out Frankenstein's mind with pleasure. Still not quite believing this wasn't just a feverish fantasy, he braved a touch. His hands landed on the slimmer yet muscular shoulders, the smooth, perfect skin warm under his palms as he slid them up into the black tresses and tangled his fingers there carefully. With each deep pull of his blood, a wave of pleasure swept through Frankenstein, his cock jerking against his belly, against Raizel’s belly pressed to his own. He could feel that his master was hard, cock pressed between Frankenstein’s thighs. It was all too much, too perfect, and Frankenstein whined, begging wordlessly for more, for touch, for anything. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact he had his master here, over him, drinking deeply.

_I want to erase him from your body._

The words echoed in his mind, the connection between them opening on Raizel’s part, and Frankenstein scrambled to match him, to open up his mind to his master’s presence, giving him everything, his blood, his body, his mind, whatever he desired.

_Please_ , he begged unashamedly, too stunned by what was happening to hesitate any more. He shifted his legs, pressing his knees to his master’s hips, making it clear that he was welcome to whatever he desired, that Frankenstein would gladly give it all to him.

_Even if it hurts?_

He could feel the way his master’s attention was focusing in him, scanning him, cataloguing all the small aches and pains his encounter with Rayflo had left. He could feel him hesitating. Frankenstein couldn’t stand to lose this connection, this chance - not when his heart was beating so hard it hurt, not when his whole body was more alive, more sensitive than ever before.

He freed one of his hands from his master’s silky hair and inched it between their bodies, down until he could wrap it around the hard cock nestled between his legs. He felt the way Raizel shuddered against him when he closed his palm over that hard silky length.

“Please mark me,” Frankenstein whispered, voice low and shaky, choking from so much want. “Please own me,” he begged, when he had never begged before.

He shifted enough to press the head of his master’s cock to his loose wet entrance, teasing himself with the meager pressure, his belly clenching in visceral absolute need. Frankenstein was full of lube and come already, some leaked out of him to stain the sheets, but all he wanted right now was for his master to fuck him, to press that cock inside him, stretch him past the ache of multiple fuckings, own him and scorch his insides with his own come. His mind bloomed with images: his master’s come splattered over his face, sticking his hair into clumps, rubbed into his skin, into his belly, his chest, his back.

Frankenstein wanted to be marked all over, wanted his master to bite him all over. To open every single bite Rayflo had made and replace it with his own fangs. He wanted to put his master’s cock in his mouth and suck him until he swallowed his come. Frankenstein didn’t even care how closely their minds were connected right now, couldn't, wouldn’t stop himself from imagining all the ways he wanted his master to have him, mark him so deeply that everyone would know Frankenstein was taken, was owned.

His master was shuddering against him, still drinking, making Frankenstein dizzy with pleasure. He shifted and finally fucked into Frankenstein, cock sliding in easily with an obscene wet sound that made Frankenstein’s breath hitch again. It hurt, the already abused muscles stretching again to accommodate his master’s girth but he liked that ache, that stretch, loved the way it stopped his breath. Frankenstein moaned, long and deep, when Raizel bottomed out inside him, balls pressed so tightly to Frankenstein’s ass it felt like they were one person. He pressed his hand to Raziel's ass, digging his fingers into the tight muscle, letting him know it was okay to be rougher, faster if he wished.

_You are so open_. His master’s voice was shaky in his mind. The fangs withdrew from Frankenstein’s neck, but his master was still sucking at the wound, pulling up more blood, sending shocks of unbearable pleasure up through his body. Their chests rubbed together, the sensitive, painful nipples moving over his master’s tight chest as Raizel started to move.

His thrusts were slow but deep, bottoming each time., The head of his cock dragged almost continuously over Frankenstein’s already abused prostate, making him squirm and whimper out loud. It was the sweetest torture, His hole burned, even his healing factor protesting what Frankenstein had had done and was still doing to his body, but there was pleasure in that too. The oversensitivity meant each thrust, each shift against him sent a cacophony of sensations up his spine, made the pleasure curl tighter in his belly. He begged mindlessly for more, for harder, even as he squirmed under his master. His body was confused by opposing sensations of pain and unbearable pleasure. It stood to reason he came first, mind blown by the very knowledge of what was happening, by the echo of Raizel’s pleasure filtering down to him through their connection. The love and devotion Frankenstein felt there, a wealth of emotion he had never hoped to have returned, much less shared so openly. When that tight coil in his belly broke, when his cock twitched weakly to spew out a pitiful amount of come, he clenched down on his master’s cock inside him, hoping, begging to feel him come inside him. That seemed to be enough to push his master over the edge too, his labored breathing catching. And then Frankenstein felt it, the explosion of pleasure swamping him for the second time, coming through the connection his master still kept open, extending his own orgasm, his body echoing the pleasure in helpless devotion. Frankenstein could feel Raizel coming, the hot spill inside him, marking him, scorching him clean from the inside out.

Still half blind with pleasure, Frankenstein panted like a racehorse when his master shifted above him and caught his jaw in his hand, pressing their lips together. He tasted like blood, like Frankenstein’s own blood as they kissed, long and slow, simply sliding their tongues together. It lasted long minutes, perhaps hours, before Frankenstein felt his master withdraw, cock slipping through the come inside him. If he had been loose before, Frankenstein was obscenely open now.

Frankenstein whimpered and kissed Raizel deeper, hands tracing the man’s back, still unsure this was even happening at all.

He didn't expect it, when he felt the cool fingertips at his hole again, the touch almost too much. It made him whimper and squirm, but Frankenstein didn't try to break the kiss, just opened his mouth wider and let Raizel's tongue forge deeper.

_Did you think just once would be enough to satisfy my desire?_ The voice in his head was teasing, but underlined with a kind of breathless need that turned Frankenstein’s whole mind into jelly.

_Please_ , he whimpered into the bond, kissing even harder, hungrier. He might not survive this but god, how he wanted to give Raizel everything the man wanted.

Raizel broke the kiss, his cool lips trailing down Frankenstein’s jaw and lower to his neck. He whimpered when those lips closed over his Adam’s apple and sucked there, making Frankenstein swallow compulsively. He tilted his head back, letting his master have as much access to his neck as he wanted.

His master’s lips dragged to the other side of his neck, nose burning in the curls, and breathed hot moist air over the bite left by Rayflo.

_I don’t want his marks on you_ , there was a vehemence to the words Frankenstein did not expect, not from somebody who’d just come, and definitely not from his master. When he felt Raizel's fangs press carefully over the newly-healing punctures. Frankenstein whined, helplessly and painfully aroused instantly as his master pressed his fangs in. His master ruthlessly opened the bite, overwriting it. Frankenstein squirmed, only pausing in his writhing when the fangs were completely embedded. He panted, trembling hands spreading on his master’s back, feeling the muscle there shift and tense as he drank. Again. Frankenstein’s cock, spent and completely soft, twitched painfully as it tried to harden once more. It was impossible, not after all that he’d been through tonight, all the sex he’d had already, but oh, how he wanted more.

_I’m not going to stop_ , his master whispered in his mind, fangs starting a frustratingly slow ascent. Frankenstein moaned, his voice as shattered as his body at the sensation, twisting under his master, trying to release the rapidly building pressure he had no hope of expressing in any other way.

“There’s a lot of marks,” Frankenstein whispered hoarsely, digging his fingers into the smooth skin of his master’s back, his small, tight ass, thinking of the fingers still rubbing all around his own swollen, loose hole, slipping and sliding in the wetness smeared between his legs.

_You invited me in_ , Raizel rumbled in his mind, _I won’t stand for a lack of resolve now._

Frankenstein tried to laugh, but his voice was too shattered for that, so he swallowed the sound and groaned instead, shifting his hips, inviting his master to slide his fingers in again. He might not be able to get hard, might ride the edge of pain but he couldn't help thinking of it. Of Raizel pushing in his fingers, two, three, four of them, stretching him, erasing all traces of anyone ever having touched him there.

His master groaned, sliding his lips from Frankenstein’s neck to his chest, kissing briefly over the breastbone, then dragging his lips delicately over Frankenstein’s swollen nipple. Frankenstein gasped, hands flying to tangle in the cool dark hair that tickled his skin. There was desire in his master’s mind, a deep and dark well that he allowed Frankenstein to just glimpse. It wasn’t a gentle thing either, possessive and all encompassing. Frankenstein had never expected this scope of Raizel’s possessiveness, the bone-deep urge to erase all traces of Rayflo from his skin. He didn’t mind. He found pleasure in this, even if he couldn’t get hard, even if this drove him out of his mind with sensation, with pain when Raizel set himself to biting over every bite the other vampire had left on Frankenstein’s skin. Frankenstein wanted to feel those fangs, longer and thinner than Rayflo’s, cut into him again, wanted to feel his master’s touch on his belly, on his thighs, working over that already oversensitive skin. Wanted his master to push between his legs again, push his cock into him and fuck him until he was all but overflowing with his master’s release. He wanted Raizel to wreck him, break him, remake him.

Raizel was shuddering over him, even as he was pressing his fangs above Frankenstein’s nipple, loving and ruthless at the same time.

_I will_. The promise was dark and thick like molasses, sending shivers down Frankenstein’s back. _I’ll do all that, and more. I will make you mine, I swear._

There was nothing his master could want from him that Frankenstein wouldn't have been overjoyed to give. And if pleasure didn't turn his mind to mush, he vowed not to kill Rayflo the next time they met. Holding a grudge was hard when all Frankenstein had ever dreamed of was right here in his arms.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Remeber to go and pay respects to the art goddes Quarra that created stunning art for this fic:  
> [Quarra](https://quarra.tumblr.com)
> 
> And if you are there, visit me too: [xantissa](https://xantissa.tumblr.com)


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